More Than Shadows
by Love Pollution
Summary: Post-1x05. "What do we do now?" "I don't know."
1. Chapter 1

"I came to tell you…"

"I know, I need to go. A posting...far away...to save us both."

"Far away." Rose repeated his words in an effort to convince herself, but as she spoke her body evidenced the feeling in her heart, her head shaking no. They stood in the dark road, chests rising and falling rapidly. Rose's eyes darted back and forth as she searched Ron's face, thoughts racing through her mind, the pain she felt believing their relationship to be over all too fresh in her memory. "No," she finally spoke, the realisation dawning that she didn't want to live her life without him in it.

"Rose…" Ron started. The sensible and pragmatic man he was, the man who had so deftly used those skills to rise in the ranks to Air Force Captain, knew how wrong this was and could see every pitfall; however, he couldn't help but let his head be ruled by his heart and found himself unable to stop her from uttering the words he hoped she'd say next.

"No, never leave me."

The words were barely out before she was pulling his lips to her own. The kiss was warm and passionate, everything they'd experienced that day at the house, but with more unrestrained desire pulsing through it.

Only when oxygen became an issue did they break apart.

"What do we do now?" he asked looking into her eyes, his hand cradling her head as his fingers gently brushed along the back of her neck.

"I don't know," she whispered truthfully, a tear escaping her eye. Ron gently brushed it away from her cheek with his thumb. "All I know is that I can't stand the idea of my life without you in it." Ron swallowed in response to her confession, knowing exactly how she felt, his eyes unable to hide the truth. He slipped his arm further down her shoulders and pulled her towards him, inhaling the scent of her hair as she buried herself against him.

As content as Rose was, it didn't take long for her ever present logical mind to kick in. "Gosh," she said as she pulled away, making some minor attempts to tidy herself up, smoothing out her hair and straightening her coat. "I need to get back. I just walked out of the house." Ron's brow furrowed. "Michael, he might lose the pub, and I just…" she said unable to finish, unsure what to call the feeling that led her to run away into the night and find Ron. "He'll be wondering where I got to."

Ron nodded in understanding, at the last part anyway. "Can you come and see me tomorrow at the base?"

Rose scanned her mind feverishly for anything that might prevent it. "Yes," she answered with certainty and a small smile.

"Good." He leant in and pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss. When they broke apart he held her face in his hands, tracing her jaw tenderly with his thumb. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she affirmed. After one quick press of his lips to her forehead, they finally parted. Rose watched as Ron returned to the Jeep and drove away into the night, headlights fading in the distance before the car disappeared from her sight.

Turning, Rose began to retrace her steps. Remarkably, it was only now that the fact she had left the house without shoes on her feet came to her attention. Stopping and glancing down, she sighed to herself and took a moment before she continued to walk over the damp ground with extra caution.

As she walked, her thoughts raced so fast that she felt barely able to process what she had just done. There was no denying it now. She, Rose Coyne, was in love with a man who wasn't her husband. She had kissed a man who wasn't her husband; and what was worse was that she longed to do so much more than just kiss him.

The first day she met Captain Ronald Dreyfuss, she had dreamed of him. That first dream was barely worth remembering, they had done little more than talk literature in it, but as the weeks went by, Rose's dreams grew more and more explicit in nature. She has dreamed of little more than kissing him, that was until the night of the day they actually kissed.

She had imagined them together, somewhere she wasn't sure she recognised, just talking at first, but the talking had lead to kissing and that had lead to making love. She had woken up in the middle of the night with a start, Michael snoring gently besides her with his arm laying across her, the perfect reminder of just what an awful person she was to be dreaming of another man. Slipping out from his embrace, Rose had tiptoed into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face in an effort to gain some composure.

It was in that dimly lit bathroom that she had decided she couldn't let herself love Captain Dreyfuss, no matter how dashingly perfect for her he seemed. She had even planned to tell him so next time she saw him; only she didn't see him, not for nearly three weeks. Lieutenant Zeigler gave her no indication as to where he had gone, so Rose naturally assumed he'd seen their growing attraction and kiss as a mistake; but no matter how much she tried to tell herself it was for the best and that she was going to tell him that she felt the same, the feeling of longing gnawed at her soul. Her soul felt like it'd lost its missing piece all over again.

Walking back to the house, Rose reflected that the feelings weren't just longing, the idle fantasies of a bored wife, they were love. Those words she'd said to Ron earlier at the party about her heart screaming out love were true. This was the kind of love she had thought she'd felt for Michael, but she now realised with a kind of sadness, could never compare.

Before she turned the corner she knew would bring her home into view, Rose braced herself with a shaky deep breath, affecting her best look of nonchalance as she turned the corner. The house was in darkness except for the living room, no doubt because Michael was waiting up for her.

It took mere seconds from her opening the door for Michael to come bursting into the hall.

"Rose! Where were you?!" he demanded. She busied herself by removing her coat before turning to answer his question.

"I had to go and check with Lieutenant Zeigler that there weren't any leftover gifts from the party, we agreed I'd give anything left to Father Nolan to distribute as he saw fit," she said in rushed and overly positive tone.

"You're not even wearing any shoes," Michael said as he gestured to her feet.

"Would you believe, I was in such a rush that I didn't even notice until I was halfway there!" Rose told him hurriedly in an attempt to brush off the evidence of her frantic mental state.

Looking into Michael's eyes Rose could see he wasn't entirely convinced by her story, but it also didn't seem he was going to push for any further explanation, so she continued: "Anyway, as you can see I'm empty handed, so it was quite the wasted trip I'm afraid, it seems they had just the right amount of presents for all the children."

Michael looked at her, his mouth forming a straight line that seemed to constitute some sort of acknowledgement.

"Gosh, anyway I'm exhausted!" Rose continued before walking up the first step of the staircase, then turning back to Michael. "I think I'll head to bed. Are you coming?"

He continued studying her silently for a moment before he responded. "Soon, I have some documents to look over that Harrington left me."

"Right, OK," she nodded before retreating upstairs and into the safety of the bedroom.

Standing back against the door, she placed her hand over her mouth in some effort to silence her mind. Her eyes darted frantically as she blinked back tears.

After changing for bed, Rose slipped between the covers and lay staring at the ceiling. Her mind was still whirling with thoughts, the biggest being that question Ron had asked her earlier: 'What do we do now?' Just what would they do?

Rose could leave Michael, but what about the children? Where could she and Ron go anyway? The war was still very much on, so it wasn't like they could run off into the proverbial sunset that was America together.

Upon hearing Michael's footsteps, Rose turned onto her side and closed her eyes feigning sleep. She was relieved when within a few minutes of slipping in bed besides her, Michael's breathing feel into a low rhythm indicating he was asleep.

Unsurprisingly, sleep eluded Rose for much of the night, the upcoming morning and the prospect of being back in Ron's arms feeling all too far away.


	2. Chapter 2

Resting her bike, Rose pulled off her woollen hat and tidied her hair as she arrived at the army base.

"I'm here to see Captain Dreyfuss," she told the officer on the gate. The officer nodded and pointed toward Ron's office. Rose climbed the steps into the makeshift waiting area and knocked on the office door.

"Come in," Ron's voice echoed.

As she opened the door, Rose saw Ron glance at her, and for the briefest of seconds his guard of professionalism slipped, a smile crossing his lips.

"Mrs. Coyne." Rose furrowed her brow at his formal attitude until she heard a voice behind her speak.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Captain Dreyfuss, but Colonel Creswell wanted me to pass you these," the Lieutenant said, handing Ron some papers.

"Thank you Lieutenant," Ron nodded. "If you could close the door on your way out."

Once the door was firmly shut and they were finally alone, the broad smile Rose had been hoping to see broke out on Ron's face.

"I'm so glad you're here," he beamed as he rounded the desk to embrace her, making sure they were out of view of the windows in the portacabin that doubled for an office. "I was worried you wouldn't come, that you changed your mind."

"Me too," Rose answered honestly. "I was half worried that I dreamt last night," she smiled shaking her head before as they kissed.

"How were things when you got home last night?" Ron asked.

"They were fine I suppose," Rose half shrugged. "Michael still doesn't know what will happen with the pub, it's an issue with the deed."

Ron furrowed his brow and nodded solemnly. "I barely slept last night thinking about you, worrying..." The idea that this man, this strong, capable and wonderful man, had been spending the last night thinking of her the way she had been thinking of him, gave Rose the most illicit thrill.

"I know, me too," she said with a half smile. Ron's fingers traced a gentle rhythm over her shoulders, a sensation that already felt so natural to Rose despite the short space of time she'd had the luxury to feel it.

"I know this all seems kind of hopeless right now," Ron admitted gazing into Rose's eyes, "but we'll think of something, I swear, because Rose, I want to be with you." Ron paused bracing himself. "Rose, I love you, and I hope… I hope you love me too."

His words so affected her that tears started to form in her eyes. "I do love you," Rose nodded before their lips met in a crushing kiss.

They stood in silence for a moment, bathing in the sensation that accompanied their finally spoken revelations.

"I know I won't be able to see you tomorrow," Ron said all too aware that Rose would be spending Christmas with her family, "but know I'll be thinking of you when I'm sitting here bored half to death. Most of the others are taking a few days leave for the holidays, but being I just had mine, I'm staying here to man the fort."

"Quite literally," Rose added cheekily. Ron laughed, shaking his head.

"God help me, I do love you Rose Coyne." They kissed, beaming with affection for one another. "Staying here over the holidays does have another benefit too of course..." Ron smiled as Rose looked into his eyes, his arms holding her close.

"Now whatever could that be Captain Dreyfuss..." she grinned wryly, feigning ignorance. Just before their lips were about to meet for yet another kiss, a knock on the door brought them back down to reality.

"I'm sorry," Ron whispered, pressing his lips all too briefly to Rose's.

"Can we meet on Boxing Day?", Rose whispered with urgency, Ron looked puzzled. "The day after Christmas, can we meet on the shore?"

Ron nodded. "Yes."

"7:00 am?" Ron nodded with certainty in reply, returning to sit behind his desk. He took a moment to compose himself, making sure Rose had done so too, watching as she dabbed at her eyes and smoothed her hair, before he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Come in."

Tillie's beaming face, her red lipstick and platinum curls as perfect as ever, came round the door.

"Captain Dreyfuss-" she began before noticing Rose's presence, her smile dropping. "Oh, Mrs. Coyne."

"Lieutenant Zeigler," Ron spoke. "Mrs. Coyne just came to say thank you for the party last night."

Tillie looked equal parts unimpressed and unconvinced. "Well, she could've come to thank me since I was the one who did most o' the organising."

Rose broke the awkward moment. "Right, well, I better be off. Captain Dreyfuss," she nodded to Ron before turning to Tillie. "Lieutenant Zeigler."

"Mrs. Coyne," Tillie replied in a saccharine tone. She turned to Ron after Rose had shut the door behind her. "Whatever happened to your wife? Or her husband?"

"There is nothing going on between Mrs. Coyne and I," Ron spoke as he cast his gaze downwards to his desk. Swallowing, he looked up as he continued to address to her. "And even if there were, I don't see what business it would be of yours. And I would appreciate it if you addressed me, and indeed any of your superiors, in a more professional manner Lieutenant."

The wind taken out of her sails, Tillie felt her face flush. "I...I'm sorry Captain Dreyfuss." Ron nodded. "I came to let you know we have been told we can leave for the holidays at mid-day, so if there's anything else you need if you could let us know."

"That's fine, I don't need help with anything else," Ron spoke seriously before again casting his gaze downwards. With a pen in his hand, he furrowed his brow and appeared to busy himself with some papers. "If you could shut the door on your way out."

"Thank you Captain," Tillie nodded, garnering no reply.

Upon hearing the door shut, Ron dropped the pen and leaned back in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief.

Thinking of the short time he had just spent with Rose, he smiled to himself. She really was wonderful, he thought, he'd never met anyone quite like her before; she possessed such strength and self-assuredness yet her vulnerability lay just below the surface. He really did love her, and on reflection, he thought he'd known it almost as soon as they'd met. Of course he'd tried to kid himself otherwise, what with Rose having Michael and him having Rhonda at home, but some feelings were just too big to be denied.

Of course, evening thinking Rhonda's name gave him a flash of guilt that went right down into the pit of his stomach. The fact was, he and his wife hadn't lived the kind of way a husband and a wife should for so many years, but this did little to ease his discomfort.

They had met when they were both seniors in high school. Ron had enjoyed her company, Rhonda was a warm and outgoing person, and while maybe not the person he thought he'd spend forever with, he liked her enough. She had fallen pregnant when they were both only 19, and of course Ron did the right thing and asked her hand in marriage. So it was that got married quickly at the courthouse one July day (before the baby had any chance to show naturally), and that was how his life would be, with a wife and child, or so Ron thought.

Rhonda had tragically lost the baby at a little over 4 months along, and truthfully, she never seemed to come back from her grief. Their marriage became strained to say the least, the fact Ron had enlisted in the US Air Force, thus spending long periods away from home, not helping matters. While he had briefly considered a career in the military during high school, Ron knew that he'd ultimately signed up as a kind of cowards way out of his marriage, as a way to get away from the broken wife whom he didn't hold the right kind of love for to make him want to fix.

The routine had been pretty much the same for close to twenty years now: Ron would be deployed somewhere for x amount of time, he'd make those short trips home where he and his wife would interact like virtual strangers, barely saying a word to each other as they ate their meal, before sleeping on opposite sides of the bed.

This wasn't to say Ron hadn't tried to be affectionate with Rhonda, at first at least; but there were only so many cold responses, a turned cheek when he'd go to kiss her lips, or feeling her fingers untangle quickly from his own when he'd try to hold her hand, that he could take.

Her mental health had been declining steadily over the years, something that seemed far more evident in hindsight than it had at the time. Any affection she'd shown him had become less and less, her eyes growing sadder and her body becoming thinner until she looked a virtual shell of herself.

It was just over four years ago that she'd made her first suicide attempt. He'd rushed anxiously back to Connecticut upon hearing of it, finding her zombified in a mental ward. Ron has visited her every day for two weeks and she began to show small signs of improvement, but with her condition no longer considered critical, he was forced to return to his station at the time, not to see her again for another 6 months.

When he did see her again, she actually seemed to have made good progress. Having left the hospital, she was living with her parents (who had never much cared for Ron and seemed to blame him for her illness), but she seemed well. She was talking with him more, even laughing in a way he hadn't seen her do since they were both in their late-teens. So he had returned to his station hopes high, thinking that a maybe there was a future for them after all, but two short months later that notion was shot down when he was given news that she'd made another suicide attempt.

After that it was decided hospital was the best place for her, so on his short visits home Ron would visit her there and smile sadly when he saw glimpses of the girl he once knew.

Her latest suicide attempt had been her most serious yet. Somehow she had managed to get hold of a large number of pills. It had been touch and go as to whether she'd pull through for those first few days that Ron had spent at her bedside, but amazingly she had regained consciousness.

Ron had been told he could get a divorce on grounds of her illness, but the idea always felt so callous to him, plus he saw no point in it, that was until he met Rose of course. He had never been able to see the future he wished for stretched out so clearly as when he looked into her eyes.

After the war was over, they could move to Rose's native England he thought. They would spend their evenings curled up in front of an open fire, reading poetry or simply enjoying being in each other's company. Ron had always wanted children, and he hoped that maybe Rose would like more with him. In his mind, he could already picture reading bedtime stories to a tow-haired little girl with Roses beautiful sea green eyes, eyes that would shine with delight as he did his best impressions of the monsters and princes he'd read about to her in fairytales.

All this of course didn't take into account the fact that Ron had a wife, and Rose not just a husband, but also a family. But they would find a way, he told himself, love was bigger than any obstacle. It had to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Rose felt like a child on Christmas Eve, wishing for the big day to come faster because that meant she'd be one day closer to seeing Ron again. The meeting on the shore on Boxing Day could not come quickly enough.

After making final preparations for Christmas day, Rose had excused herself to bed early, the fact she'd have to be up early the next day for present opening and the preparation of the meal providing the perfect excuse.

Like the night before, Rose feigned sleep when she heard Michael enter the bedroom an hour or so after her. She figured this was a ploy should could play for the maximum of the next couple of nights, and the thought of what she'd have to do after that made her stomach turn.

It wasn't that she hated Michael of course, but more that she felt herself to be somehow betraying Ron being with him. This was ridiculous of course, she told herself, how could it be a betrayal to be with your own husband? But still, the notion lingered.

Oh how she wished there were someone she could talk to about this. Vera would've been perfect, but she couldn't bring herself to phone her sister and tell her something so huge, not when everything still felt so up in the air. It also wasn't the kind of thing that could be said when the only access Rose had to a telephone was at the Post Office surrounded by inquisitive ears.

When she heard Michael breathing steadily beside her, Rose decided it was time to try and switch her brain off and sleep for the night.

Christmas morning in the Coyne house was as jolly as ever. Kate came and woke her parents at some ungodly hour, so excited to see what Father Christmas had left for her. Throughout the gift opening, Rose unconsciously found herself twisting the diamond ring Michael had bought her around her finger.

Christmas lunch over, it was time for the family to scatter.

"I'm off to see Andrew," Emma declared as she slipped on her coat. Rose looked up from her place of reading by the fireplace.

"Don't come back too late!" she shouted, only hearing the slam on the front door as a response.

"Mum, can Seamie and I go out too?" Francis asked. Rose sighed touching her hand to her brow.

"Alright, just make sure you're back before it's dark."

"We will, thanks mum," Francis replied as he and his friend too headed out the front door.

"And make sure you wear a coat, you'll catch your death!" Rose shouted to the boys, who she noted took her advice and quickly snatched their coats from their pegs before heading out of the front door.

The sitting room fell oddly quiet, Kate being up in her room playing with her doll and poor exhausted Kettie having a lie down.

"Rose, I...I want to apologise," Michael began unsurely. "The way I handled this whole thing with Vincent and the deed, it wasn't right."

"It's OK," Rose said giving the slightest of glances up from her book, doing the best she could to sound as normal as possible, although even she heard her voice tremble under the strain.

"I had been drinking the other day and I shouldn't have… When Christmas is over I'm going to try and talk to him again, see if maybe there is something we can work out," Michael sighed.

Rose nodded vigorously, her eyes closed and her face still turned downward to her book. "That sounds like a good idea."

"I know this has upset you and I'm sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen."

Rose nodded, blinking back tears as she opened her eyes and looked up to meet her husband's gaze, "I know."

Michael nodded and swallowed hard. "Right", he said standing to his feet. "It's time for me to go and open the pub, while I can anyway."

Smiling, Rose nodded, "OK, I'll see you later. Be sure to wish everyone a happy Christmas."

"I will," Michael replied as he bent down and kissed her lips briefly before adding, "I love you." Rose didn't have a chance to respond before he was gone.

Looking back at that moment, Rose would wonder if he purposefully left before she could return the words, perhaps worried that she may not knowing something wasn't right. However, all Rose could do at the time was whisperer, "I love you too", in an uncertain tone to an empty sitting room.

That was the problem of course, because Rose _did_ love Michael. He wasn't romantic and brooding in the way Captain Dreyfuss was, but he was loyal and stoic, and he loved her in his own sober way.

Rose could still so vividly picture Michael sitting on the seafront bench the day that they'd met 18 years earlier. She'd found herself instantly attracted to his good looks, his appearance fitting perfectly into the category of tall, dark and handsome. She had decided to sit next to him with her book, reading quietly until he'd broken the silence with a simple, "Beautiful weather today isn't it?"

They had made general light conversation after, with Rose asking whereabouts he was from and Michael telling her, along with the information he was currently recuperating from an operation at Southlands Hospital. After a few minutes, silence fell between them and Rose busied herself reading, feeling sure that was about the extent of the conversation she was going to get from her benchmate.

It was a good 20 minutes later when Rose noticed Michael getting up to leave. Looking up, shielding her eyes from the bright midday sun, she had said goodbye, but instead of responding, Michael paused.

"Would you like to come out with me on Saturday night?"

Taken aback, Rose stuttered her reply, "I… Yes, that would be lovely."

"Meet me here around 7?"

Rose nodded, and Michael replied with a simple nod and slight smile before turning and walking away.

Rose watched him walking out of sight, but not once did he look back, something that Rose would reflect on in later years as being so telling of his character. He was stolid, sure and decisive; not a romantic dreamer in the way she was, or at least used to be before living took over.

Their first date had been pleasant. They had gone to the pictures at the Coliseum to see a Charlie Chaplin movie entitled The Gold Rush. Michael, ever the gentleman, had kissed her goodnight on the cheek.

They continued meeting up every weekend for the next several weeks, even sometimes seeing each other on weekdays. They were sitting on the seafront, on the very same bench where they had met, one late summer's evening, when Michael announced to Rose that he had come to the end of his stay at the hospital. Her stomach lurched.

"Oh," was all Rose could think to respond with. Michael swallowed before taking Rose's hand in his.

"But the thing is Rose, I don't want to leave you," he said as he looked into her questioning eyes. "I know it may seem quick, but I'd like to ask you if you'd come back with me. What I'm trying to say is..."

Rose blinked silently as she watched Michael drop down on one knee.

"I'd like to ask you to be my wife," he said seriously his hand still in hers. "I don't have a ring or anything right now…" He glanced away, chastising himself, before looking squarely into her eyes. "But the thing is Rose, I think we could have a good life, maybe even a great one, together in Moybeg. I know it's probably not where you expected ending up..."

Rose silenced Michael by pressing her lips to his. "Yes," she smiled. "Yes, I'll marry you."

'So what if it was fast?' Rose told herself. She knew she loved Michael, and he was strong and dependable with a solid plan for the future; on only their second meeting, he had eagerly told her of his plans to buy a cottage in his hometown and make a future there.

The idea of a life in the lush Northern Irish countryside too excited Rose. It would be different from what she knew, but she felt she could make it work. In the romantic recesses of her mind she imagined their life together being like a Brontë novel, with days spent out on the rolling green countryside and nights warming themselves in their quaint cottage.

They married a mere week later. The ceremony was a small and perfunctory one at the local registry office, there being no time to arrange anything bigger in Rose's parish church.

While Rose's parents had their reservations about their daughter entering into such a seemingly hasty union, they conceded that Michael was a good man (who, Rose later discovered, had even gone to her parents to ask for her hand in marriage before his proposal).

Vera of course had no such reservations, thinking the whole thing terribly romantic. While she made it clear she had no intentions of settling down quite so soon ("But Rose, there are so many boys I haven't even kissed yet!" she'd said to the mere suggestion from her sister that she too could meet someone to marry), Vera knew Rose to be a romantic, someone who hoped to find the person she'd spend her life with young and then settle into a happy family life, perfectly content to say goodnight to the same man for the rest of her days.

Two days after the wedding, Rose bid farewell to her family before taking the ferry to her new life.

Rose was content with Michael in the small fishing village. Michael's cousin Vincent had bought the local pub and wanted Michael to run it, so together he and Rose took on the task. Rose was surprised at just how easily she adapted to serving the local customers, and soon she and Michael took on the added task of running the local shop connected to the bar. When the chance came to purchase the large house adjacent to their places of work, they grabbed it with both hands.

Emma was born in 1927, Francis following in 1933, and Kate in 1936. It was after Kate was born that Rose took on yet another role as school mistress. She was so busy some days that she barely had chance to catch her breath, but as long as she kept busy she had no time to think of the romantic notions she'd held as a girl and how Michael, no matter how much of a good man, wasn't quite the Heathcliff she'd dreamt of after all.

It was only when Captain Dreyfuss had come along that Rose had paused and contemplated, that she'd acknowledged the nagging voices in the recess of her mind.

She had to reluctantly admit to herself that Michael was right when he said he didn't "entirely fill" her "inner space", that he could never reach those parts of her, parts that she newly realised she so longed to be touched. Indeed, no matter how he tried, and through no fault of his own, Michael simply wasn't that person.

Even though Rose was a romantic at heart, she didn't think she believed in the notion of soul mates; she believed more that some souls could be so akin that they could almost swap, each person gaining new insights from the others experiences, all the while growing together in love. Although Rose had quietly given up on the idea of finding a soul so similar to hers, with Ron it seemed she had found it.

The thought of hurting Michael made her ache, so Rose tried to push what was an inevitable consequence of her actions to the back of her mind, deciding it was easier to just take things one day at a time. Right now, she was focused on little but the clock ticking by enough for her to go to bed, where she'd likely get little sleep with thoughts of her 7:00 am scheduled meeting with Ron

They could work something out together, over time, she supposed. When Ron had said they'd think of something, she believed him implicitly. That was how he made her feel, like he could sort out all the ills of the world, or at least of her own private one. It was with that reassuring thought that Rose comforted herself as she drifted off to sleep, Michael's arm draped across her body an aching reminder of her betrayal.


	4. Chapter 4

Breathing in the crisp morning air, Rose smiled to herself as she walked along the shore, admiring the beauty of the scenery she still found breathtaking after so many years spent in Moybeg.

Glancing at her watch, she saw it was was only 6:54 am, that in her haste to see Ron again she'd arrived a little early. These morning walks were something of a routine for Rose, so Michael hadn't so much as batted an eyelid when she'd hopped out of bed at 6:30 and told him, through his sleep addled haze, that she'd be back soon. Michael never was a morning person, not like Rose, she loved nothing more than rising before the sun to see it rise over the beautiful vista she now called home.

"Rose," a voice with a distinctly American twang called softly behind her. Turning she saw Ron's smiling face cut through the twilight of the dawn.

"Good morning," Rose said tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear, all the while using every ounce of restraint she possessed to keep a safe distance, and stop herself from wrapping her arms around him. "We should probably keep walking, just in case..."

Ron nodded. "Just make it look like we just ran into each other."

Falling into an easy rhythm beside each other they walked, pausing for occasional glances at the coastline.

"Did you have a good Christmas?" Ron asked.

"I did," Rose nodded. "It's a day for the children really, and they loved it, so..."

There was an awkwardness between them, one Rose hadn't felt since before the night they'd dramatically declared their true feelings for each other on the dark road. She silently prayed that Ron hadn't reconsidered things and changed his mind about them, or indeed her.

"Rose, I..." Ron spoke and Rose stopped to look at him, bracing herself for the worst; biting her lip so hard she thought it might bleed. "I hope you haven't….reconsidered this...us. I know you've spent Christmas day with your family and everything we said may seem silly now, so-"

Rose cut him off, "No! Gosh no, not at all!" She studied his face. "That is unless you have..."

"No! No, absolutely not! I just want to make sure is all."

"OK," Rose said.

"OK," Ron replied, before reaching his hand to brush his fingers discreetly over hers. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"I really want you to kiss me right now," Rose said, finding to her surprise that her words were laced with a hint of desperation. Their gazes met and seconds ticked by before Rose snapped out of her romantic haze.

"We should probably keep walking…" she said turning and stepping forward, Ron following by her side.

"Did you speak to your family yesterday? On the telephone I mean," Rose asked.

"I did," Ron nodded. "My father and my sister," he paused. "My mother died 3 years ago now."

"I'm sorry."

Ron shrugged. "She'd been ill for a while… I wish she'd been alive to see me make Captain though, she'd have been proud I think."

"Of course," Rose agreed. Walking they fell into an easy silence, stopping when Rose paused to glance towards the shore. Again she felt the sensation of Ron's fingers brush against her own.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to see you too much between now and New Year's, being the time of year, Michael will be around more and I won't be able to get away…"

"I understand."

"I will be able to get away for my morning walk though, so if you're able, I could meet you here? I know it's not much, but it's all I can manage right now."

"I would like that," Ron said, and Rose could hear the smile in his voice. His fingers inched even closer to hers and she felt them wrap gently around her own, her heart rate picking up in response.

"I love you," Rose spoke earnestly.

"I love you too," Ron replied, squeezing Rose's hand and electing butterflies in her stomach.

Slipping her hand from his, Rose turned and walked away, looking back over her shoulder at Captain Dreyfuss's handsome figure to ask, "Same time tomorrow?"

He nodded in reply, giving Rose warm smile that would linger in her mind and help her through the day.

Rose continued her morning meetings with Ron for the next week. Although they shared nothing more than the brief touches of hands, she lived for their stolen dawn moments together. While they may have not had much time to spend together, every second felt meaningful. They discussed a wide range of topics, including work and family, and sometimes admitting to thoughts and feelings they'd had during their early encounters. It was during one such discussion that Rose had bashfully made a confession.

"Do you remember the button you lost?", she said, her gaze fixed on the horizon, too embarrassed to turn and face Ron as he walked by her side.

"I do."

"Well I found it here, the next morning after we met," she confessed. "When I'd gone walking that morning I think in truth I'd hoped to find you here again, I even found myself lingering longer than usual in the hope that you'd appear." Rose shock her head and raised a hand to her blushing cheek. "But you didn't, so when I found your button I...kept it. I tucked it away in the draw of my dressing table," she paused before admitting the part she found most shameful. "I'd secretly get it out and admire it like some lovesick teenager. Gosh, you must think me such a fool."

"No," Ron answered quite seriously, stopping to look at her. "I don't think you're a fool at all, I think love makes us do crazy things."

Closing her eyes with a sad smile, Rose nodded. "When Kate was ill, after Massie…" she paused unable to speak of the child's death. "I think I thought the whole thing some kind of divine retribution, so in an effort to purify myself I threw the button into the fire." Rose rolled her eyes at her own foolish superstition, even as she felt it rise in her again. "This was before I accepted I was a lost cause of course."

Ron could only look at her with sad eyes that knew the pain of her defeat.

* * *

"I start back at the school again tomorrow," Rose had informed Ron the morning after New Year's Day. "The children are always so unruly after Christmas break, I'm not looking forward to it."

"You'll be there all day?" he asked. Rose nodded. "Would I be able to come and see you? Of course I'd understand if it's too difficult…"

"It's not too difficult," Rose shook her head. "I'd think it'd be fine. If anyone asks, we could say we're planning something else for the children. You could come and see me at lunchtime, when all the children are out of the classroom on their break."

So the next day, after a predictably hectic morning in the classroom, Rose awaited Ron's arrival.

Despite the chilly temperature inside the schoolhouse, Rose dared to slip off her woollen coat, revealing her fitted burgundy floral dress and neatly buttoned navy cardigan. Taking a small hand mirror from her desk, Rose applied the dusty rose shade of lipstick she'd slipped into her handbag before leaving that morning. It was foolish she knew, Ron had seen her so many times without a scrap of makeup, but meeting him here held more formality; it said, 'Yes, I am having an affair, and this man does make me feel attractive and desired'.

There was another reason too for the extra attention she'd decided to pay to her appearance; Rose wanted, in some small external way, to show Ron how important he was to her, and that not only did he make her feel desirable, but also that she _wished_ for him to desire her. This need was in no small part fuelled by actions from the previous night Rose felt bound to inform him of.

Hearing a light knock on the door, Rose's stomach flipped in anticipation as she called enter.

Entering, Captain Dreyfuss removed his hat and placed it under his arm before he closed the door behind him. "Mrs. Coyne," he acknowledged Rose flirtatiously.

"Captain Dreyfuss," Rose batted back as he tentatively closed the distance between them.

"Are we…?" Ron trailed off motioning to the partially frosted glass panes that surrounded the classroom door.

"Yes," Rose said. "Master Corey will be outside watching the children until the bell rings."

Smiling, Ron stepped nearer to Rose, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Can I kiss you?" he asked tentatively.

"Oh God yes," Rose beamed.

As Ron placed his mouth on hers, Rose felt herself forgetting that they were standing in the school house, immersed in the wonderful experience of being so intimate with him. As they continued to kiss, Ron's hand moved to caress her face, while Rose's fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck.

Separating breathlessly, they smiled at each other.

"You look tired," Ron said with concern as he brushed his fingers over her cheek, noting that despite her bright demeanour, Rose had dark circles beneath her eyes.

"It's been a frantic morning," she tried to explain, but Ron's furrowed brow told her he knew there was something more. "I haven't been sleeping too well I suppose, what with one thing and the other…"

Although Rose wasn't specific, Ron knew she was referring to the strain and worry their relationship must've been causing her.

"And," Rose braced herself, "I feel like I should tell you… I slept with Michael last night." Ron said nothing, swallowing hard in response. "I didn't know what else to do… It felt like a betrayal, but then he's my husband..." Rose tearfully brought her hand to her mouth. "Gosh, it's all such a dreadful mess."

"Shush," Ron whispered into Rose's hair as he embraced her, her head tucking under the crook of his chin. "It's OK. I just wish I could just make everything better for you. You don't deserve this...mess. Sometimes it feels like all I'm doing is causing you pain and heartache, and I hate myself for it."

"You can't think that," Rose said as she separated from his embrace to face him. "It may not be perfect, but I love you, and that's something I treasure, no matter the circumstances around us."

Ron sighed in defeat. "I just...I don't ever want you to hate me Rose."

"I could never hate you," she frowned shaking her head, before her expression softened. "Even when I thought you'd cut me dead, I was angry and hurt, but I couldn't stop loving you, no matter how much I wished it."

"And God help me, I can't stop loving you," he said as he leaned in and placed a brief kiss to Rose's lips, her eyes momentarily fluttering shut as any signs of concern washed away. "Rose, I've been thinking, would you be able to get away, for the weekend maybe? You could say you're visiting your sister..."

Rose hesitated. "I think so, yes."

"I thought we could go away together, stay at a guest house? Scotland maybe. I could get a couple of days leave..."

Rose found herself surprisingly lost for words. While she had known that their relationship would inevitably advance to a more physical level, the thought of it being imminent frightened her. There would be no going back after that, she'd truly be an adulterous woman. Sensing her anxiety, Ron was quick to ease her.

"Rose, I don't want you to think I'm expecting...anything. I'd never pressure you, you have to believe me."

"I do," she answered sincerely. Rose has no doubts about that, he'd always respected her boundaries.

"I just want to be able to spend some time with you, _really_ spend some time, without having to look over my shoulder."

"I'd like that too."

"I don't expect an answer now, I know things are difficult, but if you could think about it?"

"I will," she nodded. "Thank you for being so patient with...this." Rose felt warmed by the level of deference he showed to her. "I'm sure there are any number of single girls interested in you who don't have all this bother attached to them."

"They may not have such 'bother'," Ron replied lightly before his tone grew more serious in nature, his hand touching Rose's face. "But they're missing one important thing: they're not you."

They gazed at each other silently for a moment, the noise of the school bell breaking their reverie.

"You should go," Rose whispered urgently pressing her lips to Ron's.

"7:00 am, at our spot?" he asked as he turned to open the door.

"Yes," Rose answered hurriedly, feeling a secret delight that the place they met on the shore was now 'their spot' as Ron had put it.

Finding herself distracted for the rest of the school day with thoughts of Ron's proposal of a getaway, Rose found herself making more than one error on the blackboard.

As Rose pondered, she couldn't escape the of words of a certain Whittier poem from coming into her head.

 _"For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'"_

Rose knew she couldn't walk away from this, she had to take the next step with Ron lest she look back years down the line and wonder what they could have had. Even if it all ended in a terrible mess, at least she wouldn't have to live with the aching regret of never knowing.

So it was by the end of the school day she was decided: she would tell Michael she was visiting Vera, and she would go with Ron. The thought both terrified and thrilled her in equal measure.


	5. Chapter 5

With neither herself nor Vera having access to a private telephone, Rose had written to her sister to ask for collusion with alibi of sorts. She had promised Vera that she'd explain the details in good time, although when her sister's reply came two days later, it read that she suspected she knew "exactly" why Rose needed such a thing, but it said that she would be complicit just the same.

Vera had signed off the letter by saying: "Be happy Rose, but please be careful." It was a line Rose read several times, before placing the letter back in its envelope and tucking it away safely into her dressing table draw.

Rose waited nervously for Michael to return from the pub that evening. Try as she might, she couldn't concentrate on her book. She found herself re-reading the same lines over and over with her brain unable to absorb the information, too many thoughts of the seemingly innocent conversation she'd have with her husband on his return home.

When the front door opened, Rose jumped slightly as the sound that broke the late night silence of the house. Closing her book, she placed it on the side table, switching off the lamp before she walked to stand in the doorway of the living room.

"You're up late," Michael commented as he slipped off his coat. Rose decided not to address the fact, fearing it may seem suspicious if she revealed she'd waited up specifically to speak with him.

"Was it a good night?" Rose enquired about the state of the pub, hoping this commonly asked question would normalise things.

"Aye, not too bad," Michael replied. "A good few Yanks in tonight, no trouble though."

Yawning, Michael headed up the stairs as Rose followed. Once in the bedroom, they each began to undress. Turning to face the mirror, Rose lifted her hair and waited wordlessly for Michael to unzip her dress, a habit that had become routine for them both.

"I got a letter from Vera today," Rose said, doing her best to sound natural, as Michael unzipped her dress. "She wants me to go and visit her next weekend."

"And you want to go?" Michael asked as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"I do," Rose answered as she sat at the dressing table and began to unpin her hair. Waiting for Michael's reply, she reached for her hairbrush, her eyes unconsciously closing as she nervously bit the inside of her lip.

"Then you should go, we can manage here for a couple of days without you."

Opening her eyes, Rose took a quietly shaky breath before running the brush through her hair. "I'll telephone her tomorrow and let her know," she replied, a tight smile painted on her face as did her best to retain her composure.

The next morning, Rose found herself awaiting Ron's arrival by the shore with even more anticipation than usual. Upon seeing his figure approaching in the distance, she felt a relief knowing she would soon be able share the news of the decision she'd made, and of the corresponding conversation she'd had with her husband.

"I thought about what you asked the other day," Rose said as they fell into their familiar pattern of walking side-by-side. This would be the first time they'd spoken of their proposed weekend away since Ron had suggested it to her. Rose could tell he wanted to give her space and not press her into making any decision, something she greatly appreciated.

Still walking beside her, Ron gave a small glance to Rose as a response.

"I wrote to Vera, she said that she'll...cover for me," Rose said feeling decidedly odd speaking such words aloud. "So yes, my answer is yes, I'd like to spend the weekend with you."

Chancing a glance to Ron, she saw him smiling broadly before his brow furrowed and his face fell slightly.

"And Michael? I mean have you…?" he asked. "Did you…?"

"I spoke with Michael," she answered. "He's happy for me to go." Even as she spoke, Rose caught herself thinking, 'But he wouldn't be if he knew what I were really doing'.

Ron's broad smile returned as he brushed his fingers against hers in a clandestine fashion.

"I can't wait until I can hold your hand without the fear of people seeing," he said.

"Me too," Rose said chancing a blushing smile in his direction.

During their morning walks for the remainder of the week, she and Ron planned how they would go about travelling to Scotland.

They would catch the ferry from Donaghadee, but at different time lest they arouse anyone's suspicions. Being that Rose would be boarding a different vessel at a different location to the one which she'd take to visit Vera, she would insist to Michael that she didn't need him to drive her to the bus, and that she'd use the walk there in place of her usual morning one; after the bus journey, Rose would then take the train to the harbour. While she expected he'd protest somewhat, once he discovered she'd be leaving before the sun had fully risen, he'd likely give in for the sake of being able to spend another hour in bed.

The ferry would make the relatively short trip to Cairnryan Harbour, where Ron instructed Rose to wait for his arrival on the ship's midday crossing.

Saturday morning soon came around and Rose was more than relieved when things went as planned; Michael agreed with little resistance to let her walk to the bus, and both the train and ferry journeys went without a hitch.

Knowing Ron wouldn't arrive at the harbour for another couple others, Rose decided to walk the short distance to a local tea shop. Nibbling on buttery Scottish shortbread (which, she idly speculated, would've been larger in portion size and more decadent in taste if not for rationing), she sipped her tea and gazed out the window. She felt amazed to see people passing by in complete oblivion as to what the day meant to her. No one gave her so much as a glance, even though she felt she had a sign over her head that read 'adulteress'.

As she sat, Rose reflected on just how she'd become the person who spent an illicit weekend away with a man who wasn't her husband. First and foremost of the reasons was the love she felt for Ron, there was no denying that, but there was more.

When she was with Captain Dreyfuss, she didn't have to be Rose Coyne the shopkeeper, Rose Coyne the school mistress, Rose Coyne the pub landlord's wife, Rose Coyne the mistress of the house, or even Rose Coyne the mother or sister; she could be that person she'd said goodbye to when she'd married Michael and moved to Moybeg all those years ago. That person was a girl who was a romantic, someone who believed in meeting someone she could swap souls with. She could be someone who was unencumbered by the responsibilities that had made her lose her dreams.

As Rose sat daydreaming, the time ticked away surprisingly quickly. Glancing at her watch, she realised it was time for her to go. Standing, she brushed any excess crumbs from her coat before heading to the ladies room.

Looking in the dimly lit mirror, Rose tidied her hair and powdered her nose, before finally clicking the cap off her cherry red lipstick and applying it. Gazing at her reflection, she took a deep breath to calm both her nerves and excitement.

She walked down to the harbour with a slow determination, finally stopping to sit on a bench close to where the ferry alighted. It was only a few short minutes until she spotted the ship approaching in the distance.

Watching as the passengers stepped off board one-by-one, Rose couldn't help but smile when Ron came into view. It was a smile that, to her delight, Ron echoed.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied, quite unable to wipe the smile off her face.

Slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and picking up Rose's suitcase, Ron reached his free hand out and clasped it within hers.

"I can't believe I finally get to do this," he said with wondrous disbelief. "I feel like any minute I'm going to wake up."

"Me too," Rose beamed as they walked hand-in-hand, a warmth radiating through her body as Ron stopped to give her a quick kiss.

"The guest house I heard about should be just around here I think," he said searching the row of quaint houses up ahead. "There," he finally pointed as they headed to their destination.

Freeing Rose's hand briefly from his, he knocked on the guest house door, their fingers intertwining again while they waited. Once the door opened, they were greeted by a friendly looking woman with flushed cheeks, and unruly grey hair that struggled to be contained in the bun on the back of her head.

"Room for two?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," Ron replied.

"Oh you're American!" the woman said with delight. "We had some lovely lads staying her last year, an absolute pleasure, so polite!"

When they had been planning their trip, Ron had informed Rose that there had been a number of American military working on Cairnryan Harbour the previous year, thus he imagined no one would seem surprised to find an American there. Rose was grateful he had thought of such a thing, she herself hadn't stopped to consider how odd his presence may have looked in a place like this.

During Ron's exchange with the landlady, Rose had decided to stay silent, not wanting to draw immediate attention to the fact she was English.

As they walked through the hallway, Rose took in the charmingly homely decor. Going behind the front desk, their landlady asked the length of their stay before taking payment. Handing Ron the room key, she relayed various pieces of information regarding their lodgings before leading the couple upstairs to their room.

"You should have everything you need, the bathroom is just down there," she indicated to a room a couple of days away.

"Thank you," Ron said with his best charming smile.

"Anything you need, just let me know!" the landlady blushed as she exited their room, closing the door behind her. Rose found herself getting a secret thrill from the obvious crush the woman had on the man who was here to spend a weekend with her.

"I think she has a crush on you," Rose grinned.

"Well, that may be," Ron smiled. "But there is only one woman I'm interested in."

"Really, who might that be Captain Dreyfuss?" she flirted coyly.

After dropping their luggage to the floor, Ron leant down and gave Rose a searing kiss, his hands finding their way into her hair as he pulled her close.

"You have no idea how good that feels," he confessed with a giddiness.

"Oh, I think I do," she said as she reached up for another kiss.

As their kiss became more and more heated, Rose found herself increasingly aware of where it would lead. The thought of making love to a man she'd been dreaming of since the day she met him excited her, however she felt terrified by the inevitable consequences such an action would have.

Breaking for air, Rose stepped away from Ron and took in their surroundings. The room was neat and clean, although the scuffs on the dark wood of the furniture were testament to years of wear and tear. The floral bedding too, while clean, was faded from many a time through the mangle, and of the bleaching of the sun as it dried on the washing line.

As her gaze landed on Ron, Rose was met with some surprise.

"I've never seen you without your uniform before," she said.

It was only now that Rose fully took in what Ron was wearing. She watched as he slipped off his woollen coat revealing he wore a shirt, trousers, and boots. He looked different, but still smartly well turned out.

"I don't get to wear my 'real clothes' all that often," Ron said. "It feels good to be myself for a while."

"You don't feel like yourself in your uniform?" she asked.

"I feel like..." Ron paused searching for the right words, "a version of myself."

He didn't need to explain more, Rose knew exactly what he meant. She too had many masks she wore, and while she may not have looked different the way Ron did in or out of uniform, she still felt like there were many versions of herself.

"This is the first time in a long time I've felt like me," Ron said, the unspoken implication being that it had les to do with this clothing and more to do with the company.

"I know what you mean," Rose replied, a bittersweet smile crossing her lips.

Silently, the couple gazed at each other for a moment, the gentle tick of the clock echoing. Sensing Ron was about to kiss her, Rose found herself wanting to busy herself with a distraction.

"Gosh, we should probably unpack," she said flitting towards her suitcase.

"Rose," Ron said softly placing a calming hand to her shoulder. "I know you're scared, but there's no need to be. I meant it when I said I didn't expect anything. Just because we're in the same bed it doesn't mean that anything has to happen."

Looking at him, Rose felt silent wonder at the way he could effortlessly pick up any nuance in her mood, something Michael had never quite managed try as he may.

"If all I get to do this weekend is hold you, I'll still be the luckiest man alive," Ron smiled genuinely.

"But that's the thing," Rose said with a shake of her head. "I want to do so much more than that, and the truth is I have since almost the moment we met. It just makes everything...real."

Ron nodded empathetically. "I know."

"But I want it, I really do," she said looking at him with pleading eyes.

"It's fine," Ron tried to ease her worry. "We can go slow..."

"No, I want this," Rose shock her head in a way reminiscent of the night they'd kissed in the headlights of the Jeep. "Please," she said less as a question, more of a demonstration of how sure she was.

Their lips came together with crushing force from both sides. It was not long until clothing was shed, and with it, any lingering hope Rose may have had to save herself became a distant memory.


	6. Chapter 6

As she woke up, Rose's eyes adjusted to the darkness of the bedroom. Turning over, she saw Ron was sleeping and smiled. Slipping from his embrace, she picked a nightgown from her suitcase, slipping it over her head before she walked down the hall to the bathroom.

Switching on the light, Rose splashed some cold water on her face before examining herself in the dimly lit mirror. Shockling, she found no outward signs of her adultery. She looked the same as ever, albeit her hair was a tad more ruffled and her cheeks held more of a flush, but she bore no scarlet letter evidencing what she'd done.

Switching the light off behind her, she walked back down the hall and re-entered the room she was sharing with Ron. Closing the door behind her as quietly as possible, she walked across the room and slipped beneath the covers next to him.

"Mmmhmm, what time is it?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"Just gone three," she replied glancing at the clock.

"Mmmhmm, a few more hours," he mumbled pulling her closer to him.

Unable to sleep, her mind heavy with questions, Rose found herself mentally tracing the shadows on the ceiling.

"Can I ask you something?" she finally braved. "Was last night… I mean was I, was it..." she paused feeling foolish and immature about the question she was going to ask. "Was it OK?" Her words caused Ron to open his eyes, and peering down at her with a furrowed brow he watched her continue. "It's just I've only ever been with..." She stopped short of saying Michael's name, not wanting to sully their precious time together. "And I'm sure you've been with so many other women with so much more experience..."

"Rose..." he stopped her with a shake of his head and a gentle smile, his demeanour turning more serious as he saw the concerned vulnerability in her eyes. "Last night was...perfect."

"Really?" she asked wincing in preparation to be told she was wrong.

"Really," he affirmed with a kiss to her lips.

"Gosh, you must think me such a fool for asking," Rose said bringing her hand to cover her face.

"Not at all," Ron said as he removed her hand from her face, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it as he clasped it in his own. "Actually, I think it's kind of adorable."

Looking up at him, Rose gave him a blushing smile before laying her head on his chest.

"I like seeing you with you hair like this," he said after a few moments of silence, running his fingers through her dark coppery blonde hair as it fell from her shoulders down onto her back. "It makes me able to imagine going to bed with you each night and waking up with you each morning." He paused. "Sometimes I picture how our life together might be so vividly I can almost taste it."

Rose opened her mouth to reply, but found no words to express how his confession touched her. Tears stinging the back of her eyes, she nestled her head closer into the crook of Ron's shoulder. With his fingers stroking a gentle rhythm through her hair, it wasn't long before sleep washed over her, carrying her away with dreams of a life she might share with the man she loved.

* * *

They awoke early the next morning, Ron a little before Rose. While he had always been an early riser, years in the Air Force meant he found it impossible to sleep late no matter how he tried, his body so programmed to wake at the crack of dawn. On this day, he used the time to steal some private moments watching Rose as she slept with her head resting on his shoulder.

When she did wake, they ended up making love again. Knowing that this would be their final time to be so intimate in the foreseeable future, they took their time, savouring every moan, every breath, and every kiss.

After washing and dressing, they decided it was only polite for them to at least make a show at breakfast, even though neither of them held much of an appetite.

"Good morning! Sleep well?" their landlady asked in a seeming characteristically jovial mood.

"Yes, thank you," Ron answered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Seeing the landlady looking expectedly in her direction, Rose decided staying quiet any longer would only look suspicious.

"It was lovely," she said, pausing slightly before she continued awkwardly. "Very...comfortable."

"Oh, you're English!" the older woman exclaimed. "Whereabouts are ye from?"

"Erm, Shoreham-on-Sea, originally," Rose replied before looking down to her plate in an attempt to curtail any further conversation. Noticing her discomfort, Ron interjected.

"We were wondering," he said, "we'd like to go for a walk before we head back, but our ferry isn't for another few hours, so could we leave our luggage here?"

"Aye, that'd be fine. I can put it behind the desk for you, you just come and collect it when you're ready."

"Thank you ma'am," he nodded in her direction, turning on the American charm in a way he knew was sure to win her over.

"It's no problem, no problem at all!" she said blushing, before bustling out of the room and back into the kitchen.

"You are awful!" Rose giggled. "'Thank you ma'am'," she parroted playfully in a surprisingly well rendered American accent.

"Hey, I gotta work with what I got," Ron smirked with a raised eyebrow.

"Shall we go?" Rose asked, adding under her breath, "I don't think I can pretend to eat this food much longer."

A few minutes later, they were strolling along the shore, the brisk and biting wind bringing a flush to their cheeks.

"I haven't seen you with your hair like this since the first day we met, down at the shore," Ron commented looking at Rose's still neat, but more casual than usual tresses, the red woolen hat he'd seen so many time atop her head.

"Today felt like a more relaxed day," she smiled leaning into his shoulder as they walked with their arms intertwined, their hands clasped together.

Spying a bench, the couple decided to sit. Huddling together, they left not an inch between them. Rose's head rested in its now familiar place in the hollow of Ron's shoulder.

"Do you ever wish you could freeze a moment?" Ron asked rhetorically. "If we could just make this last forever, everything could be so simple." Sighing, he pulled Rose tighter, unconsciously breathing in her scent.

"Maybe it's not meant to be simple," Rose pondered. "If love were simple, maybe we wouldn't appreciate it In the same way." She couldn't help but think of her relationship with Michael as she spoke; how easy everything had always seemed for them, and how that left Rose longing for passion and spark.

They whiled away the remainder of their time huddled close on the bench, sometimes talking and laughing, but mostly enjoying an easy silence. Spotting the ferry in the distance, they reluctantly untangled themselves from each other, before Ron went to collect their luggage while Rose awaited his return.

Although on the journey there they had been cautious and taken separate ferries, they decided it would be safe enough to make the return trip home together. After boarding, they settled on the deck.

With Ron's arms wrapped securely around her, Rose gazed out onto the ocean. Closing her eyes, she breathed in a mixture of the salty sea air and his warm clean scent. She tried hard to commit the smell to memory in the hopes that it'd help her get through the upcoming time they'd be forced to spend apart.

"I wish we could've stayed longer," he said wistfully as thumb moved over Rose's hand in a gentle caress. "Maybe next time..." He paused. "That's if you want their to be a next time, I don't want to assume..."

"Oh God yes," Rose spoke with unrestrained enthusiasm, turning in his embrace to look directly into his eyes. "In fact, the thought of it might be all that saves me from going quite insane."

"You are so beautiful," Ron said entranced by the sight of her glowing complexion, his thumb brushing her cheek as her hair whipped around her face in the wind. Shaking her head, so unused to such compliments, Rose's cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

"I've always felt rather plain," she said looking down and away from him. "Especially compared to Vera. And you must've met so many glamorous women… Just look at Lieutenant Zeigler, she'd look perfectly at home in a Hollywood picture."

"You are so much more than bleached hair and red lips," Ron said as his thumb titled her chin to make her gaze meet his. "You deserve to be with someone who tells you how beautiful you are everyday."

Smiling wistfully, Rose turned in his embrace and cast her teary eyes towards the sea, her head resting safely in the hollow of his shoulder.

It wasn't long before the coast of Donaghadee came into view.

"I know we need to be careful, but can I please drive you home?" Ron looked pleadingly at Rose. "Or at least to the outskirts of the village. I have the Jeep, it seems silly for you to take the bus."

"I don't know..." While everything in her body screamed it was far too risky, Rose couldn't bring herself to say no, the desire to spend any extra time with him was so strong.

''Please," he begged.

"OK," Rose said with a shrug and a smile.

After they alighted, the couple quickly headed to Ron's Jeep. Turning to face the passenger seat, he reached for Rose's hand and gave her a broad smile. "I love you," he said.

"Me too," she replied with a hint of melancholy as she squeezed his hand.

They spent most of the drive in silence, although it was not an uncomfortable one. Occasionally Ron would reach his hand across to touch Rose's, an action that gave her a jolt of electricity every time.

"I should probably drop you here," he said slowing the car as they neared the village, familiar sites coming into view.

Once the car had come to a standstill, their lips met in a powerful kiss.

"I love you, don't forget that," Ron whispered to Rose, their faces so close they could feel the other's breath tickle their cheeks.

"I will never forget it," she replied tearfully before finding some composure. "Tomorrow morning at our spot?"

Ron nodded, leaning in for a final kiss. Passing Rose her suitcase, he watched as she exited the Jeep and began the walk home, looking back to give him a sad smile as she went.

As she walked home, Rose felt an odd mixture of happiness and dread. She was happy of course over the time she'd spent with Ron, but dreading her return home. Lying wasn't something that came naturally to her, so she prayed that Michael didn't ask too many questions about her supposed time with Vera.

Lost in her thoughts, she was oblivious to the approaching Jeep until it pulled up directly besides her.

"Mrs. Coyne," said a female voice she'd grown to recognise.

"Lieutenant Zeigler," Rose replied with a start.

"Oh please, you can call me Tillie," came the reply dripping with false pleasantries.

"Tillie," Rose corrected herself accordingly.

"Been away for the weekend?" Tillie said directing her gaze to Rose's suitcase.

"Oh, yes, I went to stay with my sister," Rose replied flustered.

"Mmmhmm," Tillie said drawing out the syllables. "You know, Ron was on leave this weekend too."

"Oh, really," Rose said feeling her face heat up under the weight of obvious suspicion.

"I just hope he'll get to take some more leave soon to go back home and see his wife, poor thing all alone like that."

Rose heard nothing past the word 'wife', her heart pounding so fast in her ears. She felt her face pale, her skin growing clammy as she willed herself to stay standing.

"Wife?" she stuttered. "I thought Ron- I mean, Captain Dreyfuss, was single."

"Oh no, Ron has a wife," Tillie drawled with barely concealed mirth. "Told me so himself."

Rose stared wordlessly as Tillie adjusted a ringlet and straightened her hat.

"Oh well, I better get going. See you again Mrs. Coyne!" Tillie said with a self satisfied smile before driving off into the distance.

As she watched the car retreat, Rose remained motionless in stunned silence, questioning everything she thought she knew.


	7. Chapter 7

Rose walked home in a daze, her thoughts muddled with the impending stress of having to conceal her lies, and of course of Ron's newly discovered deceit towards her.

"Oh Mrs. Coyne, you're back," Sally said, her arms heaving with freshly folded laundry, seeing Rose come through the front door. "I hope you had a nice trip. I take it everything is well with your sister."

"Yes, thank you Sally," Rose replied curtly as she placed her luggage down and removed her hat and coat.

"Mr. Coyne is at the pub, but Emma is reading outside if you'd like me to fetch her for you..." Sally said with a degree of hesitance.

"No, that won't be necessary." Rose shook her head before bringing her hand to her rub at her brow. "But thank you Sally." The maid nodded in return, feeling the tension in the air. "I'm actually not feeling too well, so I think i might just take a bath and then have a lie down." Sally nodded again. "If you wouldn't mind preparing dinner alone, I'd be grateful."

"Not at all Mrs. Coyne. Let me know if there's anything you need."

"Thank you Sally," Rose answered tiredly as she headed up the stairs to the bathroom.

After filling the bath a woefully shallow amount thanks to the curse of water rationing, Rose slipped off her clothes and slid into the water.

As she sat staring into space, she was surprised by her sheer lack of feeling. She felt utterly numb, unable to shed a tear, such was the level of her devastation. Looking down at her body, she visually mapped the places Ron's hands had touched and brought her such delight mere hours earlier. Those memories now felt tainted, every touch dirtied with a lie.

Her mind drifted to earlier that day, when they had made intimate conversation during the twilight of the early morning.

"Did you ever want children?" Rose had asked as she lay with her head on his chest. Ron's hand faltered in the lazy pattern it was stroking on her shoulder. Swallowing, he took a nervous breath before replying.

"Yes," he said. "I… It almost happened for me, once." Rose hadn't pressed further, mainly because of a secretly immature desire to not think of his having a past with anyone else.

While it pained her, her mind couldn't help but wander further to the words Ron had gone on to speak moments later.

"I would still like children," he had said, pausing for a beat before adding: "With you." The words made Rose feel like her heart had been cracked open.

"Really?" she'd asked with wonder, turning to look at him.

"Yes, I've thought about it quite a bit actually," he'd confessed. Rose had kissed him gently in reply, a wordless declaration that she wanted the same as him.

But how could she truly believe any of that now? How was she to know she wasn't just another in a long line of many women? As angry as she was, something in her heart told her that wasn't the case. The connection they shared was a rare one, it wasn't the kind that could be manufactured for a cheap fling. Plus, she reasoned, why would a practiced adulter be so silly as to tell someone like Tillie about his wife?

Still, Rose couldn't help but chide herself over the warning signs she'd so obviously missed in hindsight: Ron had never spoken of his romantic past, not even when she had told him the story of how she'd met Michael, and would have seemed obvious for him to recount any similar event from his life. There was also his odd insistence that she were never to hate him, something at the time she didn't understand, but had tried to convince herself fitted into the guilt he was having over their affair.

Her bath water growing cold, she rose from the tub and dried herself off. Once she was in the bedroom, she slipped off her towel and put on a nightgown. Darkness having barely set in, Rose drew the curtains and slipped under the covers, feeling relief at being able to escape the world while she lay cocooned between the sheets.

Stress and the lack of sleep from the previous night catching up with her, she fell asleep quickly only to be woken by Michael returning from the pub hours later.

"Rose," he whispered, his warm body pressed against hers. The feeling was so familiar, yet so foreign to the one in the dream he awoke Rose from. She had been dreaming of Ron of course, memories of the night previous replaying in glorious technicolor, secret wives be damned.

"What is it?" she mumbled.

"I just wanted to say welcome home is all," Michael playfully shook his head before adding more seriously. "I missed ye." Such vulnerable words from his mouth made the pain of Rose's faithlessness hit her like a blow to the chest. "It wasn't the same sleeping alone."

Rose gave him a soft smile and a quick peck on the lips in lieu of lying to say she'd missed him too.

"Goodnight," she said turning her body away from his.

"Goodnight Rose," Michael said placing his hand briefly on her shoulder.

Although her internal clock woke her for her morning walk with Ron, Rose chose not to go. Instead, she decided to busy herself preparing breakfast with Sally.

"Mum!" Kate exclaimed running over to her mother, who happily scooped her up in her arms.

"I missed you!" Rose said kissing her head. "And you!" she said seeing Francis as he came into the room, opening her arms wider to encompass both children in a hug. "Sally and I have made a special breakfast for you, so why don't you sit down and enjoy it."

"Morning mum!" Emma said as she breezed into the kitchen before sitting at the table. "How was Auntie Vera?"

"Auntie Vera was fine," Rose said busying herself with the stove before turning to face her daughter. "Now, how many eggs do you want?"

Breakfast a success, Rose faced the rest of the day like it were any other. The children were sluggish as usual for a Monday morning. While she welcomed the distraction of having to keep them attentive, her tolerance for misbehaviour was lower than usual, and she found herself scolding them unnecessarily on several occasions. It was a relief when lunchtime came around to find herself at last alone in the classroom.

Marking stories the class had written while she ate her sandwich, Rose jumped at the sound of a knock on the classroom door. "Come in," she invited.

When she saw the handsome figure in a US Air Force uniform enter, her stomach dropped.

"I hope I'm OK to be here," Ron said nervously. "It's just you weren't at our spot this morning, I was worried something had happened..."

"I'm fine," Rose shook her head cooly offering nothing more in the way of explanation. Silence stretched between the couple as the clock ticked loudly to their ears.

"Rose, I… Is something wrong?" he asked puzzled. She chose to ignore his question in favour of her own.

"What's her name?" Rose finally asked stone faced.

"What...? Who…?" Ron asked as he placed his hands intimately on her shoulders, searching her face in confusion.

"What's her name?" she repeated again solemnly.

Ron opened his mouth to speak before a realisation dawned upon him. Closing his mouth, his lips formed a hard line.

"You spoke to Tillie..." he said taking a step back from Rose, casting his eyes downwards to avoid her gaze.

"What's your wife's name? I think I deserve to know." Her face remained still, her eyes focused straight ahead in an icily. The only slight sign Rose showed of emotion was to discreetly blink away any sign of tears.

"Rhonda," Ron finally answered quietly. "Her name is Rhonda." Rose said nothing in reply, remaining expressionless aside from a purse of her lips. Silence again stretched between them.

"You should go," she finally told him, whipping round to face the blackboard only to have his hand touch hers, freezing her in her tracks.

"Rose, please…" he pleaded helplessly. Turning, she found herself in close proximity to his face. Sensing her discomfort, Ron took a step back and waited for her to speak.

"You should've told me," she said shaking her head vigorously, her emotions no longer able to be contained. She felt tears prick the backs of her eyes as she looked him square in the face.

"I wanted to, it was never the right time..." Ron defended himself weakly, hearing his own words as ridiculous the second they left his mouth.

"The right time would've been before we kissed," she flashed angrily. "The right time would've been before we'd made love," she added in more of a hushed tone, before finally the rage and hurt was unable to be hidden within her voice. "Before I betrayed my husband for you! Before I ruined my life for you!"

Rose's words turned Ron's expression stonelike, his face frozen from the ruin which he knew he only had himself to blame.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said seriously. "When I told you I didn't have a wife, I never dreamed of what might happen between us."

"You should go," she insisted. "I can't talk to you now." Rose turned her back to him, wiping her eyes as she faced the blackboard. Standing with her head down, she only looked up a few seconds after she heard the telltale sign of the classroom door closing.

Try as she might to hold them back, heavy guttural sobs came from deep within her. They came for reasons other than the fact she'd been lied to; they were self punishment too for being so foolish as to fall for Captain Dreyfuss. Despite herself, she couldn't shake the feeling of self inflicted anger for the words she'd just said to him, knowing that they weren't entirely true.

Rose knew that deep down, had she been completely happy with Michael, had he "filled" her "inner space" as he put it, she would never have considered getting involved with another man, no matter how charming and seemingly perfect for her he may be.

After letting go of her rage, Rose did her best to compose herself in preparation for the afternoon with the school children. Despite her best efforts, she was distracted from teaching, something had that become a habit for her as of late. Her distraction followed her home too, the conversation during supper becoming nothing but background noise to her own thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Michael had asked before he left for the evening's work at the pub.

"I'm fine," Rose said with a forced smile and shake of her head. "I'm just tired, it's been a busy day."

Accepting her explanation, Michael had gone to work and left her alone in the sitting room. As soon as she heard the door shut behind her husband, Rose had gotten up from her seat to sit at the desk. Frantically grabbing writing paper and a pen, she scrawled a letter to Vera.

 _Dear Vera,_

 _Everything is such an awful mess. Oh how I wish you were here now to talk with. I really need some time away and to see you, so I was wondering if I could come and stay with you, this weekend if it's not too short of notice._

 _Awaiting your reply,_

 _Rose_

Two days later a reply came from her sister, saying she would be awaiting her arrival at the station on Saturday afternoon. Relieved didn't come close to how Rose felt reading the words.

Time away, she decided, was exactly what she needed. Not only did she need to distance herself from Ron, but to distance from Michael, with no other male distractions, would help her clearly sort her feelings for him too.

Michael was surprised when Rose announced she was taking another trip so soon, but she explained it away by saying Vera's mood had taken a dip after she'd left, that she'd written Rose begging to see her again. Michael accepted the story, and while she could sense his skepticism, she chose not to concern herself with it so long as she could get away.

Unlike her trip the weekend previous, this time Michael absolutely insisted on taking Rose to the mail boat, even if it did mean travelling all the way to Dun Laoghaire harbour in Dublin.

"I'll be back by Sunday evening," she told him with a curt kiss to his lips.

"Alright, take care," he said, watching as she boarded the ferry with her suitcase in hand.

What Rose didn't see when she turned her back to Michael was the expression of a man who was putting together the pieces, thus finally realising things may not be entirely as they seemed.


	8. Chapter 8

After the boat from Dublin had taken her to Liverpool, Rose caught the train to Bristol before finally changing to one that would take her to Shoreham.

Stepping down onto the platform, Rose searched through the crowd of people for Vera. Finally, she caught a glimpse of her waving sister, her bright red coat and lipstick making stand out with sophistication in contrast to the blandness around her.

"Rose!" Vera beckoned to her sister. Placing her suitcase down, Rose embraced her in a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you," Rose said, the tears welling up in her eyes coming as something of a shock.

"C'mon," Vera said leading her sister to her car with her arm around her shoulders. "I've got a bottle of gin at home I've been saving for an occasion just like this." Rose laughed wiping at her eyes.

"Put your things down anywhere," Vera said as they entered the narrow hallway of her home. "I would say I'll put the kettle on, but I think this calls for something stronger than tea."

Entering Vera's sitting room, Rose was confronted by the mantle with held pictures of Vera along with the son and husband she'd so tragically lost. Seeing the photos, and thus being reminded of what a terrible event Vera had gone through, made Rose's own problems seem quite small and insignificant.

"Here we are!" Vera said bouncing into the room. "I'm going to make us a pair of Old Fashioneds!" Although Rose tried to conceal the fact that she'd been examining the pictures, Vera noticed her sister's position next to the mantle and her face fell. "I should take them down I suppose," she said after placing the bottle and glasses on the table, "but I just can't bring myself to shove them away in some dusty draw."

"You shouldn't hide them," Rose said. "You can't just pretend they never existed. You need to remember them, not forgot. But it doesn't mean you can't move on." Vera smiled sadly as she looked at one of the frames, the beaming faces of her husband and infant son during a day at the beach staring back at her.

"Well, that's enough about me," she said reverting to her earlier bubbly mood. "We're here to talk about you."

Sitting down on the sofa, Vera poured a generous helping of gin into each glass.

"I don't know where to begin..." Rose said taking a sip. "Oh my, this is strong."

"I told you, I've been saving this for something special," Vera laughed. "How about starting with what happened after I left?"

"OK," Rose said before taking a deep breath. "Actually, I suppose the whole situation really started when you were still staying with us." Vera signaled Rose to continue with a raise of her brow. "The day we had that lunch… I went to get dessert and he- Captain Dreyfuss, or rather Ron that is, came to find me and...we kissed."

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Vera said with shock.

"I didn't want to make a fuss about it, I thought maybe if I ignored it it might go away..." Rose shock her head at her own foolishness. "I never went looking for it, any of it, I tried so hard to save myself, but..."

"But you couldn't," Vera finished with a melancholy smile.

"After that I didn't see him for weeks, I thought he'd cut me dead. I was so angry, even though I had no right to be… When I finally saw him again I was so rude and immature," Rose cringed at her past puerility. "Eventually I learned he had been on leave, Lieutenant Zeigler was supposed to tell me but she didn't."

"Why am I not surprised?" Vera rolled her eyes. "Spiteful cow," she added causing Rose to chuckle.

"But my God, that kiss Vera," Rose said wistfully reminiscing of the day they'd had lunch. "I'd never been kissed like that."

"See, I told you Captain Dreyfuss was good for more than just quoting Tennyson."

"Anyway," Rose said bringing herself back to the story. "There was a Christmas party at the Air Base for the children, that was when I learned Ron had been on leave. We talked and decided we couldn't see each other anymore. I went home that night to Michael and found there was a problem with the deed on the pub, that we might lose it, and he'd been drinking… Something inside me just snapped, I ran out of the house like a mad woman and met with Ron, in the middle of a dark road in the rain no less." She shook her head and brought her hand to her mouth with embarrassment. "We kissed again and that was when it really started I suppose."

"It sounds like something from the pages of a Mills & Boon," Vera said in amazement.

"We met in the mornings, during my walk, but nothing happened...not until we decided to spend the weekend together."

"That was the alibi you needed from me," Vera filled in the blanks. Rose nodded.

"So we spent the weekend together, and it was...wonderful," she smiled. "Only when we returned home did I hear from Tillie that Ron has a wife."

"A wife?" Vera said shocked. Again, Rose nodded.

"I asked him about it and he confirmed it's true." She took a gulp of alcohol. "I haven't spoken to him since and now I just feel so terribly...lost."

"Oh Rose," Vera said placing a hand soothingly on her sister's. "You and Michael always seemed so happy."

"We were, or I thought we were," Rose said. "But now I'm honestly not sure if I was ever really in love with him at all, the feelings with Ron are just so different." Vera creased her brow trying to think of what to say. "I do have love for Michael and he's a wonderful man, but..."

"Maybe he's just not the one for you," Vera finished Rose's sentence.

"I know I can hardly lecture on morals, but how could Ron lie to me about something so big as being married?" Rose sighed.

"Maybe you should talk to him about it," Vera shrugged. "If I've learned anything in life, it's that situations aren't always black and white."

"He told me that when he said he was single, it was with no forethought about what might happen between us."

"And you believe him?" Vera asked.

"I do," Rose answered sadly. "I also believe him when he said he wanted to tell me but there was never a right time… Our situation wasn't exactly a conventional one."

"See? Maybe all hope isn't lost," Vera nudged.

"But even without that," Rose scoffed. "I'm still a married woman, with children, and he's still Captain in the US Air Force. And there's a war on!" Taking another drink, she laughed at the ridiculously hopeless nature of the situation she found herself in, Vera joining her.

"Go on then," Vera giggled. "Tell me what I really want to know: how was it?"

"How was what?" Rose feigned innocence as she sipped her gin.

"The sex Rose! I am assuming you did more with Dreyfuss during your illicit weekend than just discuss literature."

"It was..." Rose began as her cheeks reddened. "It was amazing actually," she confessed. "I had no idea it could be like that, so...raw but tender." Vera listened dreamily. "And the things he said..."

"Do tell," Vera nudged.

"He told he loved me, of course," Rose said, noting her glass was almost empty. Noticing her sister's lack of gin, Vera poured more as she listened to her continue. "He told me I should be with someone who tells me I'm beautiful everyday," she continued wistfully. "And he said he wants a future with me, even that he wants children with me."

"Gosh," Vera said feeling taken aback. "I have to say Rose, those aren't the sort of words you'd imagine to hear from a sailor with a woman in every port, so to speak."

"I know," Rose sighed, "and I think that makes it all the harder."

They sat silently drinking for a moment before Rose started chuckling to herself.

"I really am like the Lady of Shalott!" she laughed in spite of herself. "I was living my life, too scared to look up, but then he came along..." she shook her head and looked at Vera with defeat. "And the curse was upon me."

Stuck with the overwhelming heaviness of the situation, all the pair could was to descend into giggles.

Reaching out, Vera grabbed her sister's hand. "You'll be alright, you'll get through this," she reassured. "Even when you think you can't possibly, you can carry on, believe me."

"My problems seem so silly compared with everything you've been through," Rose said with embarrassment. "I know I haven't always been here for you as I should have, and I regret it."

Vera shrugged. "It's OK, you had your own life in Moybeg, and your own family to worry about."

"I don't deserve you," Rose shock her head.

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that after the mess I was the last time I saw you?" Vera smiled in a sad way that meant the happiness didn't reach her eyes.

Rose squeezed her sister's hand. "We really are quite a pair, aren't we?"

"Here," Vera said topping their glasses up even further, "let's have a toast to each other. Sod everybody else!"

"Sod everybody else!" Rose laughed through tears as they clinked glasses.

The drinking and sisterly sharing of secrets continued late into the evening. Shortly after midnight, pair tumbled into Vera's bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

"Morning!" Rose cheerily greeted her sister as she entered the kitchen on the Sunday morning.

"Oh Rose, do you have to be so loud?" Vera groaned as she sat gingerly at the kitchen table. "Are you frying eggs?!" she asked as a sour smell invaded her nostrils.

"They're good for a hangover," Rose confirmed. "Although I don't seem to be suffering anywhere near as much as you."

"Why didn't you stop me from opening the vodka?" Vera winced holding her head.

"Here," Rose said placing a plate with toast and two fried eggs on it in front of her sister, "eat this, it'll make you feel better."

"I highly doubt that," Vera said skeptically. Cutting a small piece of toast and egg, she swallowed it with a grimace. "What time do you need to leave?"

"My train leaves at 10 o'clock," Rose said as she poured tea from the teapot into each of their cups, "so I have some time to recover from last night."

"Why is my hangover always so much worse than yours?"

"Because," Rose paused as she poured the milk into her tea, "I know when to stop."

"You always were the sensible one," Vera admitted. "Do you remember when we were girls and I was courting that awful boy...the one with all the red hair," she gesticulated wildly around her own head. "What was his name…?"

"Gerald," Rose replied with a roll of her eyes.

"And you told me, you said: 'Vera, you can't go around kissing boys you don't even like, they'll just end up expecting more from you', and of course, you were right."

"If only I could have given myself some sensible advice when it came to Captain Dreyfuss," Rose sighed.

"Have you decided what you're going to do when you get home?" Vera asked.

Furrowing her brow as she stirred her tea, Rose sighed again. "I think I need to speak with him, to at least hear his side of the story. But as for everything else with Michael… I just don't know, it's all so difficult."

"You never know," Vera said trying to cheer her sister's mood, "maybe Dreyfuss will have some magical plan and whisk you away, then you won't ever have to worry about anything again."

"Maybe," Rose said with a sad smile.

* * *

"Write to me soon," Vera told her sister as she hugged her goodbye before she boarded the train. "Things will work out, I just know it."

"I love you," Rose told Vera hugging her tightly in return. "I promise I'll be in touch soon."

The train rides went by quickly, the English countryside passing her eyes in a blur, and it wasn't long until Rose was alighting the ferry to see Michael awaiting her arrival. After greeting each other with uneasy smiles, he reached for her suitcase and proceeded to carry it to the car.

The car journey home was a tense one, and every second of silence that passed made Rose more and more concerned about what her husband might know.

"Vera was telling me she might be getting a job soon," Rose said doing her best to ease any tension. "She's applied at a local shop, she says the owners are lovely people."

"Aye," was all Michael said in response, keeping his eyes fixed on the road in front of him.

Returning home, Rose noted how eerily silent the house.

"The children are all out," Michael answered to Rose's unspoken question, "and I gave Sally the day off."

Saying nothing, Rose's mouth parted forming a small o as she stood in the hallway staring at her husband. It was the next words that he said that made her feel as if the earth were coming off it's axis.

"Rose, we need to talk."


	9. Chapter 9

"Rose, we need to talk," Michael said solemnly.

"About what?" Rose spoke with a brightness that belied the dread she felt.

"I know you weren't with Vera two weeks ago," Michael spoke with well controlled emotion, "and I know you're the one who asked to visit Vera this weekend. I found the letters."

"You went through my things?!" Although Rose knew any sort of moral high ground from her at this juncture was ridiculous, the words still slipped from her mouth.

"I know it's wrong and I shouldn't have done it, but I knew something was wrong... I had to know," Michael said calmly.

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but Michael silenced her.

"Don't...please. I know there's probably someone else, and that you were likely with him," Michael paused and swallowed, "but if you never tell me about it, then maybe I can convince myself it was all in my head."

As Rose looked at Michael, her eyes wide with shock and distress, and the situation began to overwhelm her.

"I'm sorry..." she stuttered. "I need to sit down."

Making her way into the sitting room, Rose slowly lowered herself to sit in the chair by the fireplace. Following her lead, Michael sat on the accompanying settee. After giving her a moment to compose herself, he started to talk.

"Rose, you were always meant for more," he said with an odd sense of guilt. "You're an exotic bird and I never should've tried to cage ye in this place."

"You didn't cage me," Rose said with a tearful shake of her head. "I came here because I wanted to, because I loved you. I still do."

"But it's not enough is it?" Michael said with peaceful acceptance. "I can never fill that part of you, no matter how I try." Rose said nothing, casting her gaze downwards before looking at Michael again mournfully. "That's why I have to let you go."

Rose shock her head and creased her brow as she weakly tried to protest. "No..."

Michael stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Please Rose, we both know this has to happen," he said in a tone that told her he was resigned to his fate.

"So that's it, our marriage is over just like that?" Rose spoke with anguish.

"I think...it's for the best," Michael shrugged. "We'll work something out with the children, I'd never keep you from them."

"You are so much more than I deserve." Rose said as tears trickled down her cheeks.

"I don't know what you want to do," Michael sighed, "but know I'd be happy for you to stay here as long as you need. Until this war is over even."

Rose took in his words but couldn't shake her guilt to comment on them. "I hope one day you find someone who is perfect for you, someone who can love you better than I could."

Michael shifted uncomfortably before he met his wife's gaze, his mouth forming a hard line.

"Harrington knows some people, they can pull some strings so we don't have to mess with a private investigator to prove adultery," he continued stoically regarding future plans.

Rose looked at him, bewildered. "Why don't you hate me? You have every reason to put me through hell and never let me see the children again."

"Because I know you Rose," he said. "I know that you'll have tried with everything within ye to resist temptation, and if you couldn't, well, he must've been something. I also know you're a grand mother and the children don't deserve to lose that."

"I am so sorry," she apologised eternally.

"We can sort arrangements with the children another time. I'm guessing you'll want to move back to England?" Michael asked.

"I..." Rose stuttered. "I hadn't thought about it, maybe..."

"Aye well, we'll arrange it later, but as I said, you can stay here as long as you need."

"Thank you," she answered tearfully.

"I expect the young 'uns will get used to the idea of things changing, but Emma might find it hard." The thought of how the children would take the news hadn't even crossed Rose's mind at that point. "She'll be off to university soon anyway, but it'll be up to Francis and Kate who they want to stay with, as far as I'm concerned anyway," he said looking questioningly at Rose.

"Of course," she affirmed. "I'd make sure they'd have plenty of trips back here if they came with me."

"Aye," Michael nodded soberly. "Well, I've work to do, so I'll be seeing you later." And with that, he exited the sitting room and Rose heard the front door close behind him.

Shell shocked, Rose sat silently trying to digest the conversation which had just taken place. It was an exchange she should've seen coming and been prepared for, but it still shook her to the core. Life as she knew it, with Michael, was over.

* * *

Despite the trauma in her marriage, Rose's world still kept on turning. The children returned home an hour after Michael left, having gone to the pictures with money their father had given them. They were so distracted by talk of the film that they barely asked Rose about her visit to see Vera, and they certainly didn't pick up on their mother's subdued mood, something she was grateful for. Michael returned home and ate a quick super, one Rose willing prepared for him despite the tension in the air, before he worked the rest of the evening hours away in the pub.

Michael didn't return home until long after Rose had gone to bed, something she suspected was no accident. While she had been sleeping, the stresses of the weekend proving so great on her body that it shut down regardless of her mind, she was awoken when Michael finally stumbled into the room. Clumsily stubbing his toe passing the dressing table, he swore under his breath.

Rose kept her eyes closed despite being conscious, wanting to avoid any further awkward conversations between herself and Michael for as long as she could. As he slipped into bed besides her, she caught not only the usual odor of cigarettes that followed him home from a night serving behind the bar, but also the more usual one of stale beer on his breath.

Waking early, unable to sleep, Rose decided to busy herself stock taking in the shop, anything to get here mind off of her problems. It was to her relief that Michael had already left the house to work in the fields by the time she returned home for breakfast. She went mechanically through her usual Monday morning routine, even as her thoughts remained elsewhere.

Her patience with the school children wore thin rather quickly, especially when two pupils decided to throw pencils at each other.

"Get out the classroom, now!" she shouted with stern exasperation, before bringing her fingers to rub at her temples.

The bell for lunch rung shortly after, and Rose told the disobedient children she would be reporting their behaviour to Master Corey before she dismissed them. Even as she spoke to the them, she heard herself stumble over her words as her mind drifted off course. She couldn't escape nagged thoughts of Ron and what he might think of the news of her marriage breakdown.

After finding and informing Corey of the disruptive children, Rose asked him for a favour.

"Would you be able to stand in for me this afternoon?" she asked. "It's just I'm not feeling too well."

"Aye, you look a little pale," Corey said concerned. "I can take your place, it's not problem."

"Thank you," she said, grabbing her things and rushing out of the classroom before exiting the main entrance.

Leaning against the wall, Rose took several gasps of air. She felt relieved to be outside, having felt stifled and overwhelmed in the classroom, despite its less than warm temperature. The fresh air did something to help clear her muzzy head, although some frantic thoughts persisted.

Rose rode her bike with steady determination, feeling sure that she needed to see Ron and not just tell him of her news, but also try to resolve their issues. To move past their problems they had to work through them, and that was something she knew she must find it within herself to do, no matter the difficulty.

Upon arriving, she dismounted from her bike, and made a small effort to tidy her appearance before she went to speak to the guard on the gate.

"I'm here to see Captain Dreyfuss," she told him with an air of confidence.

"You're too late I'm afraid ma'am," he told her.

"Oh, I can come back later, or tomorrow..." she replied in confusion.

"No," the guard laughed slightly. "Captain Dreyfuss has gone. He left early this morning."

"Gone?" Rose asked with quiet disbelief.

"He's been assigned a new post I believe, but I can take you to see the replacement Liaison Officer if you'd like," he offered.

"No, no...that won't be necessary," she said, the colour having drained from her cheeks.

"Are you alright ma'am? You look a little pale," the guard said as he bent slightly to meet Rose's eyeline.

"Yes, I'm fine," she brushed off his concern before turning to walk away. "Thank you," she turned back and shouted realising she had forgotten her pleasantries.

Later, Rose wouldn't remember her bike ride home, or much of anything else from the remains of that day.

The next few days also passed in a similar haze. While she was sure everything seemed fine on the surface, inside she felt like she was crumbling.

Letting her facade slip privately, Emma had heard Rose crying in the bathroom one day.

"Mum, can I come in?" she said after knocking on the door gingerly.

"Yes," Rose told her, clearing her throat and wiping her tears.

"Are you...alright?" Emma asked. "I wasn't listening I promise, I was just passing the door and I couldn't help but hear..." she trailed off.

"Oh, I'm fine," Rose insisted putting on a smile. "Don't worry about me, you know how I get when I read a sad book. Wuthering Heights gets me every time."

Emma looked at her confused. "If you're sure..."

"Really, I'm fine," Rose insisted once again. "I'm just being silly," she gave a tight smile before swiftly changing the subject. "Aren't you supposed to be seeing Andrew this evening?"

Emma nodded. "But I can cancel if you need me..."

"Don't be silly," Rose shock her head. "You go, have a lovely time," she insisted. "Just make sure you're home before 10."

"I will," Emma replied leaving the room, her hesitant tone and manner telling her mother she wasn't convinced with Rose's assertions of wellness.

When Thursday came around, one of Rose's two days a week off from teaching at the schoolhouse, she found herself predictably serving in the shop. The fact that it was rations day ensured she was extra busy.

Relieved the morning rush was over, Rose decided to take a moment to check the stock levels on the shelves.

"Just a minute," she shouted upon hearing the shop door open. She was standing behind the counter with her back turned away from the door, a pencil and paper in hand diligently making notes. "Right, I'm sorry about that," she began as she placed the pencil and paper down and turned, only to halt her words when she caught sight of the customer.

"Mrs. Coyne," Tillie nodded, her tone as sickly-sweet as ever.

"Lieutenant Zeigler," Rose said with surprise. "I wasn't expecting to you see you again."

"I...wasn't expecting to see you again either," Tillie answered honestly, and Rose noted somewhat gratefully that she didn't even try to correct her into using her Christian name. "But I have something to give you."

"Oh," Rose said, trying her hardest not to get her hopes up that it could be something from Ron.

"Before he left, Ron gave me this and made me swear on my life I'd give it to you," Tillie rolled her eyes before she handed Rose a letter sealed with a wax stamp. "So this is me, giving you the letter, doing my duty and all."

"Thank you," Rose replied shakily, discreetly squirreling the letter away into the pocket of her apron. "Is there anything you need..." she added gesturing to the shelves.

"Oh no, I'm fine," Tillie said, the pair looking uncomfortably at each other. "Well, I better get back..."

"Of course," Rose nodded.

"Goodbye then," Tillie told Rose awkwardly as she left the shop.

The second the door shut behind Tillie, Rose hurried away from her place of serving at the counter to the corner by the window, affording herself a little more privacy.

Delicately opening the letter, she held it towards the light and began to read.

 _Dear Rose,_

 _By the time this letter reaches you, I will be long gone to a far away post. It may not have been in time to save us both, but maybe in this way you can at least salvage something of the life you had before I arrived._

 _You were right when you said I should've told you sooner about Rhonda, my wife. I can make all the excuses I want about timing, but I was a coward and afraid of how you'd react. But I want to again assure you that initially when I told you I was single, it was simply because that was the lie I told everyone, I held no ulterior motives. It was simply easier to call myself a bachelor than to fabricate a story of a happy home life, or to attempt to explain that I had a wife I hadn't lived with for years, someone who had spent more time in mental wards than in what should have been our marital home._

 _I said I never wanted you to hate me, and I know in that I have likely irrevocably failed._

 _Please know that I have, and never will, stop loving you. The connection we shared was unlike anything I've ever felt, or indeed I'm certain I will feel again._

 _Yours,_

 _Ron_

Tearfully, Rose stared at the letter in the hopes that it would somehow change, that the words would tell her he'd be back. But, Rose decided fatalistically, life wasn't so simple or kind. Instead, she was left to navigate the choppy waters of a failed marriage, and to nurse a broken heart, alone.


	10. Chapter 10

_November 1945_

"Did you find everything you were looking for?" Rose asked the elderly woman in front of her as she surveyed her pile of books.

"Yes thank you dear, you were ever so helpful. You're an asset to this place!" she enthused.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that..." Rose said modestly.

"Well I think they're very lucky to have you!" the older woman insisted, to which Rose smiled politely.

Once the woman's books were stamped and she went on her way, Rose glanced at her watch and realised it was time for her to close the village library for the day.

"You go home. I can close up, it's no bother," Rose insisted to the young woman she worked with.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I was hoping to go to the pictures later, and I could use the extra time to get ready," she said with some excitement before reigning in her enthusiasm. "That's if you're sure of course..."

"Go, have fun!" Rose smiled as she watched the girl joyfully bustle her way out of the door.

Books tidied from the counter and put neatly back into their places, Rose surveyed the small library that had been her place of work for the past three months. Deciding everything was as tidy as it was going to get, she proceeded to get her things and, keys in hand, headed to the door.

Once she was finished locking up, Rose hopped on her bike and rode the short distance to pick Kate up from a school friend's home.

She really couldn't have chosen a more picture perfect place to live in, Rose thought as she rode through the chocolate box village. Even the bare trees and damp, cold weather of November couldn't dull its beauty. While it may not have been the hive of activity she'd once longed for, Rose had become to enjoy elements of small town life in Moybeg, so moving somewhere like this seemed an obvious choice. The fact the village was a train ride from not only Vera in Shoreham, but also cultural excitement and stimulation in London, made it even more ideal.

"You're sure it's fine to take her again tomorrow? I wish I didn't have to stay late again, but we're down on staff this week," she regretfully told the mother of the friend whose house Kate had been staying at.

"It's fine, she a pleasure to have, such a well behaved girl!" the woman told Rose warmly.

"Thanks again!" Rose said as she turned to walk away with Kate.

The pair chatted about school, as Rose pushed her bike, and they made the two minute trip to their own home.

"I thought we'd have stew again for super," Rose told her daughter as they came through the door. "And," she drew out the word as she bent to meet the girl's eye line, "You were such a good girl that I think I might even have some rhubarb as a treat for dessert." Kate beamed. "Now, you go and start your homework and I'll get started in the kitchen."

As she was standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables, Rose heard a knock on the front door.

"Kate, can you answer that?" she called, stopping what she was doing to wash her hands. "Kate, who is it?" Rose asked as she rounded the corner and walked into the hallway, still drying her hands with a teatowel.

When she laid her eyes on the person standing at the front door, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Hi," came an American voice Rose thought she'd only ever hear again in her dreams, and her stomach flipped reflexively at the sound.

"Hi," she replied with disbelief, her tone barely above a whisper.

* * *

As the bus travelled along the winding roads, Ron found himself begin to notice familiar sights and sounds that signalled he was soon to arrive in Moybeg.

Upon his arrival in the small village, it took him little time to find his way to the schoolhouse he'd so often mentally revisited in his memories of Rose.

Once inside, he silently ran over the speech he'd been practising (and re-wording) in his head for the entire journey one final time:

' _Rose, I know this is a surprise, but I just had to see you to know if you still love me the way I do you.'_

Straightening his clothes, he took a deep breath before knocking on the classroom door.

"Come in," a female voice called.

Upon entering, Ron was shocked to find a dark-haired woman in her mid-40s at the desk at which he'd expected to see Rose.

"I was wondering, is Mrs. Coyne here?" he asked surprised, questioning if he'd remembered the days of the week of which Rose worked there correctly.

"Mrs. Coyne doesn't work here anymore," the woman told him, glancing up from the pile of schoolbooks she was wading through with curiosity due to the sound of his accent. "Is there anything I can help you?"

"Erm, no.. Thank you," he stumbled over his words before hastily exiting the school building.

Standing outside, he watched the swarms of school children play while he assessed the situation. Maybe Rose had given up her work at the school, he reasoned, and if that were the case, she would likely be found in the shop.

After making the short walk to the site of the adjoining pub and shop, he was surprised to find the shop door, with its frosted glass marked 'Grocery - Hardware', firmly locked.

There was only one option left, he thought, he would have to call at the house. After all, he hadn't travelled to this place to come away without answers.

As he'd done before outside the classroom, Ron once again straightened his clothes and composed himself before knocking.

A dark haired woman answered the door, someone who he remembered to be the Coyne's housekeeper, Sally.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I was wondering, could I speak with Mrs. Coyne?" Ron asked with an air of false confidence.

"I..." Sally stuttered awkwardly. "Mrs. Coyne doesn't live here anymore."

A cold panic set over Ron as visions of something terrible happening to Rose flooded his mind. The idea that he might never see her again, even if it were only to make some sort of amends, was devastating.

"I'll get Mr. Coyne, he'll be able to tell you more," Sally told him, clearly unsure of just how much information she should be giving to the American on the doorstep, especially given the whisperings of gossip she'd heard after the dissolution of her employers' marriage.

"That's-" Ron started to object, but she had already hurried from the door.

After some murmuring, Ron saw Michael walking slowly towards him. Once face-to-face, neither man offered the other any words of greeting.

As they stood looking at each other, Ron couldn't help but notice how Michael had aged since he'd last seen him. Not only was his hair was greying at the temples, but the lines around his eyes looked more pronounced. He was also sporting dark undereye circles which spoke of stress and exhaustion.

After weighing Ron up, Michael nodded slightly before speaking. "I thought it was you."

Ron feigned confusion. "I don't..."

"Ah c'mon now, I may just be from this backwards place, but that doesn't make me a fool," he told the American. "I expected you'd turn up one day, if I'm honest. I take it you're looking for Rose?"

Ron took a moment to respond, taken aback by Michael's directness. "I am," he finally said with a degree of reverence. "You should know, we tried, Rose tried… Neither of us went looking for anything, it just..." he attempted to explain remorsefully.

"I know," Michael sighed before grabbing a scrap of paper and he scribbling down Rose's address. "I just hope you can make her happy in a way I never could."

Ron looked at him for a moment moment before taking the paper. "Thank you."

Michael nodded, his face expressionless, before closing the door.

Knowing little more of the location of Rose's address than that it was in England, Ron was forced to find a map and look it up during the return ferry trip he took from Belfast to Liverpool. Knowledge gained, he continued to retrace his steps with the train to Bristol, only this time he then changed onto a train for Gomshall.

Rose, it turned out, had not moved back to Shoreham-on-Sea, but instead to a small village named Shere, which sat equidistant between there and London.

While Ron had thought Moybeg to be beautiful, he recognised that this place was beautiful too. During the mile or so walk from the railway station to Rose's address, he noticed that despite the seasonal November weather, it held more of a warmth than Moybeg and made for quite the idyll.

Locating Rose's address, he took a winding path that lead him to the quaint red brick cottage that sat in a neatly conjoined row with others of the same kind. After opening the gate and walking to the door, he smiled when he noticed what could only be Rose's bike leaning against the wall.

Once again, he found himself run through his mental routine. After another steadying breath, he knocked on the door. Standing slightly back, he waited.

"Kate, can you answer that?" he heard a familiar female voice call faintly from the other side. A few seconds, and some jiggling of the handle later, the door was opened by a small girl he vaguely recognised to be Rose's daughter.

Kate stood quietly and stared up at him with curious doe-eyes. Just as he was about to speak, he heard Rose.

"Kate, who is it?" she asked as she rounded the corner and came into view in the hallway. When her eyes laid on Ron, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Hi," he said in a tone the belied his nerves.

"Hi," Rose answered back softly.


	11. Chapter 11

Standing in the doorway between her mother and the American visitor, Kate looked back and forth between them for some kind of explanation.

"Why don't you take your homework upstairs," Rose said stroking a protective hand over her daughter's hair. "I'll bring you a drink and some biscuits up in a bit," she added trying to sweeten the deal.

"OK," Kate finally agreed, scurrying from Rose's reassuring touch. After she had disappeared up the stairs, Ron dared to speak.

"Hi," Ron said again, and once more Rose found her stomach flip reflexively at the sound of his voice.

After gazing at him wordlessly for a few seconds, she remembered social norms. "Would you like to come in?"

"I'd love that," he told her genuinely, and Rose lead him through into the sitting room.

The room was smaller than the sitting room she'd had back in Moybeg, but still cozy and inviting. The walls were painted a muted mustard shade, making the pale jade green of the 3-piece-suite pop in contrast.

The fireplace mantel was lined with pictures, the largest being one of Rose and all three of her children, taken not long before Ron had met Rose in the autumn of 1943. Michael, Ron noted, was nowhere to be seen in the image.

"Would you like some tea?" Rose asked nervously, subconsciously bringing her hand to straighten her hair. "Still no coffee I'm afraid."

Looking at her, Ron noted that unlike Michael whose appearance had aged greater than the time in which he'd last seen him, Rose appeared younger and fresher. She looked more at ease with herself, less like someone who was always fighting an eternal inner turmoil, and more like someone who had found their place in the world.

"Tea will be fine, thank you," he told her as he took a seat on the settee. "So, how have you been?" he asked dumbly, making Rose pause on her way out of the room.

"I've been...fine," she said turning to him, placing the teatowel she realised she still held down on the table. "How did you find me?" she enquired perplexed as she took a seat in a chair next to the settee.

"I went to Moybeg to see you, Michael gave me your address," Ron said, to which Rose opened her mouth slightly in surprise as she nodded. "You live in a beautiful place," he noted, surprising himself when the words he'd spoken to Rose years earlier on the shore came out again.

"Yes, it's only been a few months but I'm happy here," she smiled easily. "I thought of moving back to Shoreham, but a clean slate seemed...easier. The position means I can see Vera regularly, but also take trips into London."

"So, you stayed in Moybeg until the end of the war?" Ron asked.

"I did," Rose nodded. "Just after you left, Michael...found out," she paused and looked at Ron from under her eyes, looking down again before continuing, "he found my letters to Vera and worked things out. He was so awfully understanding about the whole thing, much more than I deserved…" she sighed. "He could've easily ruined me, stopped me from seeing the children ever again," she shook her head regretfully at her past actions. "But he didn't, and I'm grateful for that every day."

"He's a good man," Ron nodded.

Rose nodded, taking a breath before she continued. "So yes, I stayed in Moybeg until the war was over, then I came here to try and start anew. Michael allowed me some of our savings, so I was able to get the house," she gestured to the space surrounding them. "I gave the children the decision as to who they wished to stay with. Emma was starting at university anyway, and Francis didn't want to leave his father and his friends...which I understand," she insisted, although Ron could see hurt in her eyes. "He's been to visit though," she added more upbeat. "And Kate goes back to see her father too."

"And Emma?" he ventured carefully.

"Things between Emma and myself have been strained," she said sadly. "She found it difficult to see her parents part. We weren't going to tell her about anything else, but she...realised," she said remorsefully before adding hopefully: "We're in touch again now though, writing to each other. I hope I might be able to persuade her to come and stay soon, not just for me, but Kate really misses her."

"Does anyone here know about...your past?" Ron enquired.

"Gosh no," Rose shock her head. "People assumed I was widowed in the war, and I never corrected their assumptions," she shrugged her shoulders. "It made everything so much simpler, even if I do feel guilty for it. I even lied and said Francis was living with his grandparents, hence the visits..."

"You shouldn't feel bad," Ron insisted. "People can be so judgemental, especially to a single woman."

Rose was quiet, enjoying the forgotten sense of reassurance and comfort he always gave to her. She was reminded of how he soothed her, bringing her a sense of calm no matter the worry.

"I was so fortunate to get a job working at the library," she broke the silence which was beginning to feel heavy. "I can mostly work around Kate's school hours, so I'm here when she needs me. If not, there is a friend of hers whose parents are so accommodating and will take her until I can collect her."

"That's great," Ron offered awkwardly, the tension of unspoken words hanging between them.

Silence set in again and Rose decided it was time for her to ask the obvious question, the one she'd be avoiding since he arrived.

"After you left Moybeg...where did you do?" she said with curious trepidation, an irrational fear of hearing of his wife creeping its way into her consciousness.

"I went home for a short time after I left Moybeg," Ron told her. "I did what I should've had the courage to do long before: I divorced my wife," he told her plainly.

"Oh," was the only word that came from Rose's mouth as her heart beat faster.

"After that, I was stationed in Berlin for the rest of the war. Then I left the Air Force and decided I needed a fresh start, London seemed as good a place as any. I have a job working for the American Embassy now," he told her with some pride.

Watching him speak, Rose couldn't quite believe he was here, in her home. She had dreamed of him so many nights since they parted, only to wake with a heavy heart certain she would never see him again. She was sure she'd have to carry the regret of how they'd left things, and pain of never knowing if he still loved her too, to her grave.

His appearance had changed little, although she observed he wore his hair a little longer than he had during the time in which she'd known him. He was less clean shaven too, a smattering of dark blonde hair could be seen forming a faint 5 o'clock shadow along his jaw. Both of these things, she thought absently, were likely because he was now freed from the constraints of the Air Force. Seeing him out of his uniform still surprised her too, although he looked smart and well put together in an outfit reminiscent of what she'd seen him wear during their short stay in Scotland.

"I suppose I shan't call you Captain Dreyfuss anymore then," Rose said with an anxious smile, glancing nervously downwards to avoid his gaze after realising she'd been lost staring at him for longer than she should.

"You can still call me Captain Dreyfuss if you'd like," Ron said as Rose glanced up to see the spark of flirtation in his eyes. "You can call me anything," he added, his steely gaze loaded with meaning.

His recall of their conversation the night of the party in the Air Force hangar years earlier flawed Rose. While it was one of the moments she found herself replay often, she'd convinced herself it was likely just another forgotten and insignificant exchange to him. She looked at him wordlessly for a moment, slightly open mouthed, before collecting herself.

"I really should get that tea," she bustled as she spoke getting up from her seat.

Reaching out his hand to touch her arm, Ron stilled her. "Rose, I didn't come here for tea."

Swallowing, she sat slowly down. His stare remained carefully fixed on her face. As they looked at each other intently, he placed his hands on top of hers.

"I came to find you because I couldn't carry on without knowing if just maybe you still loved me too," he confessed, feeling a long held weight lift from his shoulders.

"Of course I still love you," Rose said quite matter-of-factly, "but it's not that simple..."

"Isn't it?" Ron countered. "Why can't it be? We're both single now, the war is over." Rose simply looked at him as her brow creased in hesitation. "I'm not proposing we get married, although heaven knows I'd love that," he chuckled slightly. "I just want us to try, to see where we might go with no more lies and no more hiding."

"I..." Rose started before words failed her.

"Please, if we could spend time together, like a normal couple. Just to do simple things, like go to the movies or to dinner," he smiled hopefully clutching her hands in his own. "What he have is rare, you've got to believe it's worth a chance"

"OK," Rose finally conceded hesitantly.

"OK?" Ron asked squeezing her hands and looking into her eyes.

"OK," she replied more confidently, a smile breaking out on her face.

Surprising herself with her lack of restraint, Rose leant forward and pressed her lips firmly to his. It took less than a second for Ron to respond, his hands going to her shoulders pressing her closer to him as they kissed passionately.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she told him tearfully when they parted.

"Rose, I'm so sorry," he apologised as he took her face into his hands. "I thought you hated me, and I told myself you'd be better off without me..." Ron shock his head. "But I never stopped loving you, never."

"Me too, I wanted to be able to hate you, but I just couldn't," she gave a melancholy smile. "Promise me, swear to me, you'll never leave me like that again?"

Ron nodded fiercely. "I swear," he said surprised to find himself fighting back tears, "may God strike me down, I swear."

They kissed again tenderly. When they broke apart, they looked into each other's eyes and for the first time, let themselves see tangible a future together.

If she were the Lady of Shallot, Rose thought, she no longer felt half sick of shadows, for she had broken free. She could now look up and see the world around her without fear. She had more than longing. More than hope. More than shadows.


	12. Epilogue

Rose had forgotten how utterly miserable the last month of pregnancy could be. She was sure this was a cosmic trick by the Gods to ensure more children be born, because if anyone remembered this after giving birth, she was certain they'd never want to go through the whole process again.

Climbing back into bed after her fourth trip to use the loo that night, she tried her hardest not to wake her husband, something her current less than graceful state made it impossible.

"Are you alright?" Ron said with concern as her movement woke him.

"I'm fine, go back to sleep," she insisted knowing he had work the following morning.

"Are you sure?" he worried.

"I'm sure," she said placing a soothing hand to his hair. After they lay back down, he wrapped his arms around her ever expanding waist, an action which had become a comforting habit.

While Rose had to admit his concern was touching, she also knew it to be unnecessary. This was her fourth pregnancy, so she knew exactly how things should be progressing and what signs to be looking for. His concern was understandable of course given what had happened with his first wife, so she tried not to scold him, even when the hormones of pregnancy would have her to do otherwise.

The baby awake and kicking up a storm, Rose's thoughts drifted to how dramatically her life had changed in the past 3 years. If someone had told her then that she'd be living in a different place, with a different husband, and another child on the way, she would have thought them quite insane.

But that was exactly the place she found herself in.

Once Ron had reentered her life after knocking on her door that November, they had spent no more than a few days apart.

He would visit from London every weekend. Although they spent almost all their waking hours together, they both knew it was best for Ron to stay at a local guest house. Not only did this alleviate any idle village gossip, it also felt more respectful with Kate in the house.

In fact, most of their time together had been spent with Kate. Not only did Rose want to introduce her daughter to the idea of Ron in her life, but he too wanted to get to know her. Rose was surprised with just how accepting her youngest daughter was of the virtual stranger who had appeared on their doorstep. While Kate was always polite and well behaved around Ron, this would've been true for any guest, so it wasn't until Rose caught Kate laughing and unguarded one day at one of Ron's bad jokes, that she felt sure Kate would allow him into her life as someone akin to family rather than a guest.

One Saturday evening a couple of weeks after the pair had reunited, and Kate was tucked safely in bed, tired from the day they had all spent together braving the winter chill at the park, while Rose sat with Ron in the sitting room chatting.

"I can completely imagine you as a Boy Scout," Rose laughed. "I can picture you with so many badges."

"I admit, the merit badge for Sculpture remains one of my greatest achievements," Ron joked, even if it really did still give him a small sense of satisfaction.

"You'll have to show me your skills sometime," she said with a raised brow.

"I think that can be arranged…" he flirted as he leaned in to kiss her.

The kissing became more heated, and Rose untucked a small section of his shirt before her hand snaked underneath, pressing against the smooth firmness of his back. Gently, she felt Ron pull away.

He took a moment to consider his words before speaking. "I know we've...been together before," he swallowed, "but I don't want to rush this...us."

"Is it something I've said, or done?" Rose asked, the hurt evident on her face.

"No, God no, don't think that," Ron insisted bringing his hand to her cheek. "I've wanted nothing but to take you to bed since the moment I saw you again, but I want to do things...right this time. The way we started was such a disaster..."

"I know," she agreed.

"I'm in this for the long haul, I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he admitted heart-on-sleeve, "and if that means waiting until it feels exactly right, just a little while longer, I'm OK with that."

"Why do you have to be right all the time?" Rose admitted with a reluctant smile. "I love you," she said and he echoed her sentiment back.

A couple of weeks later, Rose decided it was time for her to be brave as she plucked up the courage to ask Ron a question.

"Kate's going to stay with her father over Christmas," she started to tell Ron a week before the big festive occasion. "Francis and Emma will be spending it there too, Michael offered for me to come, but..."

"It wouldn't feel right," Ron finished her sentence for her.

Rose nodded and braced herself for the words she'd been most fearful of saying. "Also, I was wondering... would you like to spend Christmas with me?" she asked him quickly and continued to speak before he had time to answer. "If you don't want to, or can't, I understand of course."

"Rose," he placed his hand gently to her face, "I would love nothing more than to spend Christmas with you."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely, in fact I was going to ask you the same thing, although I'm not sure you'd like my cooking or my dingy apartment," he said with a half smile.

"I'd be happy anywhere as long as I were with you," she told him honestly, words that earned her a spontaneous kiss on the lips.

"Me too," Ron told her once their lips were separated.

A little under a week later, Christmas day had arrived. Rose busied herself in the kitchen as she buzzed with nervous energy while she awaited his arrival.

Surveying the bowls off food on the dining room table, she was sure she'd made enough to feed 10 people if she needed; but, she thought, better to have too much than not enough. She didn't feel hungry herself, too much anxiety and excitement about the day ahead, and of course the evening that would follow. Ron would be staying over for the first time, and they would be alone.

Ever the gentleman, he hadn't assumed she'd ask him to stay to the night. When he'd casually mentioned he could pop back and see her on Boxing Day too, she'd rather awkwardly asked if he would like to stay from Christmas evening into the next morning.

"That's if you want to..." she'd said.

"Yes, I'd love that," he'd smiled at her and with that, it was set.

A gentle knock on the front door took her from her daydream.

Swiftly shedding her apron, she checked her appearance quickly in the mirror before finally opening the door.

"Merry Christmas," Ron smiled at her.

"Merry Christmas," she repeated a surprising blush coming to her cheeks. "Come in," she said leading him into the hallway.

"The food smells great," he remarked as they stood facing each other, he with his back against the door.

All Rose could do was nod as his gaze bore into her own. The air between them crackled with sexual tension.

Before her brain had time to stop her, Rose went with her body's instinct and pressed her lips to his. Her arms wrapped instinctively around his shoulders before her fingers found their way into his hair. Responding instinctively, he pressed her body tightly to his own, turning them around until Rose's back was pressed firmly against the front door.

They kissed feverishly, all the restrained passion from their time spent apart pouring out.

"Shall we go upstairs?" Ron asked upon breaking away from Rose's lips, his breathing ragged and his cheeks flushed.

"I thought you'd never ask," Rose beamed. She was surprised to hear herself let out a small and joyful squeal as his arms scooped her up, and he effortlessly carried her up the stairs.

The loving making that followed was reminiscent of that in which they'd shared the morning before they'd left the guest house years earlier; it was slow and tender, and altogether as wonderful as they'd both remembered.

"You know, the food will be ruined now," Rose laughed as they lay in bed, a faint gleam of sweat on their skin.

"There will be over Christmases," Ron said with an easy but sure confidence that made her heart sore.

"To think, this time two years ago..." she said in disbelief. "I'm so glad we found each other again."

"Me too," he said kissing her. "I knew I had to find you, some connections you only make once in a lifetime."

A comfortable silence fell between them, the only audible sounds being the clock on the wall and their own soft breath.

"Were there..." Rose started as a thought came to mind. "Never mind," she shook her head shyly.

"Were there what?" Ron enquired.

"It's a silly question, and I'm not quite sure I even want to know the answer..." she winced.

Ron conveyed silent encouragement for her to continue as his fingers stroked up and down her arm.

"Were there...any other women while we were apart?" Rose finally ventured.

"No," he replied softly, feeling the tension leave Rose's body. "There were...opportunities," he admitted honestly, "but I didn't see the point when I couldn't have the one person I wanted." He was silent for a moment before he worked up the courage to ask the same question of her. "Were you with anyone?"

"Oh gosh no," Rose almost laughed before growing more somber. "One of the men at the library did ask me out once, but I was far too busy setting up a life here…" She paused. "Or that's what I told myself, but really, I think I couldn't bear to be me with someone other than you," she finally admitted what she'd known for a while.

He felt as relieved as he suspected Rose did of hearing a similar answer from him, even though he knew it was foolish and she would have had every right to move on with her life without him.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I got you something!" Ron told her with a start. Reaching to the floor, he grabbed his coat and rooted through the pockets until he found what he was searching for. "Here," he told her handing her a long velvet box. "I didn't have time to wrap it I'm afraid."

"Oh don't worry, you shouldn't have got me anything," Rose protested. "I didn't get you anything I'm afraid, I was so occupied planning today that it never even crossed my mind," she told him with embarrassment.

"That doesn't matter," he shrugged smiling. "As I said, we'll have other Christmases. Now go on, open it."

Opening the box, Rose revealed a delicate gold heart shaped locket.

"Oh it's beautiful, thank you," she told him with a kiss.

"I saw it and I thought you had to have it," Ron beamed, pleased with her reaction, as she leant forward and held her hair up for him to fasten the chain around her neck. Once in place, Rose glanced down and ran her fingers over the place on her chest which the locket occupied.

"I love it," she told him.

"And I love you Rose Coyne," he said, kissing her long and deep.

A few weeks after they had reunited in bed that eventful Christmas day, Rose had arranged for Kate to stay with Vera for the weekend so she and Ron could be afforded some privacy.

"Of course I'll take her," Vera had said when asked. "You'll be discussing 'literature' with Dreyfuss again this weekend I take it?" she chuckled dryly at her euphemism.

In truth, Rose had wanted the time alone with Ron for a rather different reason.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out almost the moment he came through the door.

"Pregnant?" he asked unable to take the information in. "You're sure?"

Rose nodded. "I went to see the doctor the other day, he confirmed it."

"I…" Ron paused at a loss for words. "That's wonderful. I mean, I hoped maybe we might… But I had no idea it would be so soon…"

"You're happy about it?" she asked worriedly.

"Of course!" he beamed kissing her. "You know I always dreamed of children with you."

"I'm happy too," Rose admitted. "It was a shock, but I'm happy."

They kissed standing in the hallway.

"This wasn't how I planned this, and I never want you to think of i'm doing this out of obligation, but…" Ron said as Rose watched him reach into his bag in confusion. "Will you marry me?" he asked holding out a velvet box with a delicate diamond ring nestled inside.

"Yes," she nodded furiously. "A thousand times yes."

The ring, he later told her, had been his grandmother's and was left to him after his mother had died. "She offered it to me...before," Ron said referring to his first marriage. "But it didn't feel right, not like this."

They had married just two weeks after his proposal at the local registry office. It was a small and simple ceremony. Rose was understanding, but disappointed, when she received no reply to the invite she sent Emma, and when Francis too declined to make the trip.

And now, several months on, Rose lay beside her sleeping husband as she felt the baby kick and prod. The kicking had got stronger in recent weeks, prompting Ron to declare that it "must be a boy" to be causing so much trouble.

Rose would suffer through another two weeks of restless nights before she finally went into labour. Jolted awake from a light sleep one night, she gasped.

"What is it?" Ron had asked with concern, sitting up beside her and rubbing her back soothingly.

"It's...happening," Rose told him.

"Do you want me to go and fetch the doctor?" he asked with worry.

Rose shock her head knowing exactly how things would go. "No, we won't need that for a while yet."

"Is there anything I can do? Anything I can get you?" Ron asked with further panic.

She shock her head. "Now we just have to wait until my waters break, then you can get the doctor," she told him through pursed lips.

"OK," he nodded, beginning to calm down, while he continued to absent mindedly rub her back.

"You can keep doing that though," Rose smiled in regards to the light massage he was providing.

"I can do that," Ron said as he gently kissed her forehead.

Things progressed relatively quickly, and Ron was calling the doctor sooner than Rose had anticipated.

After a labour shorter than any Rose had experienced previously, Matthew Ronald Dreyfuss was born, weighing a healthy 7lbs 6oz.

"Congratulations, you have a son," Rose heard the doctor tell Ron outside the bedroom door. "You can go and see them now."

"Hi," she smiled warmly as Ron entered the room, a look of excited anticipation on his face of which she'd never seen before.

"Is he OK?" he asked nervously.

"He's perfect," Rose smiled gazing down at the swaddled but squirming newborn. "Ten fingers and ten toes."

"He's so tiny," Ron marveled as she handed the baby to his father.

"He looks like you I think," she commented. "He has your chin."

"I don't know, I think he takes after you," he smiled as the baby grasped his finger. Cautiously, with an irrational fear he might somehow harm him, he ran his fingers gently over the dusting of blonde downy hair atop of his son's head. "I never knew I could love someone I didn't know so much," he told Rose in quiet disbelief of the sensation she too had felt with all her children.

"I think he feels the same," she said with tears welling up in her eyes as Matthew continued to grasp his father's finger with all his might.

A few weeks later, and the family had got into the new routine of feedings and nappy changes.

"I wrote to Emma today inviting her to the christening," Rose told Ron over supper one evening as Matthew slept nearby in his Moses basket.

"Oh?" he said surprised. "Do you think she'll come?"

"I don't know, I hope so," Rose said with cautious pessimism. "But she's very busy with university of course, so I'll understand if she can't," she added, covering signs of her worry with a forced smile.

While Ron noticed she was trying to put on a brave face, he decided now wasn't the time to push the matter. "Hopefully she'll make it then."

It was soon the day of the Christening and there had been no word from Emma. Francis however, was visiting, and Rose delighted in introducing him to his baby brother for the first time.

"He's bigger than Kate was," Francis remarked looking into the basket.

"Here, you can hold him," Ron interjected scooping Matthew up and passing him to his half-brother.

Rose watched, pleased with the easiness of the relationship between her husband and her firstborn son. Francis had visited several times since Ron had become a part of Rose's life, and they had hit it off surprisingly well; he had been wowed by the former Air Force Captain's stories of war, although Rose wasn't quite sure how true they were.

Leaving the pair, Rose busied herself by making sure Kate looked presentable, and did her best not to dwell on the fact her eldest daughter wasn't there.

"I know you wanted Emma here," Ron told her carefully as he took her to one side in the church before the ceremony. "But she'll come around, she just needs time."

"I know," she told him as she dabbed at her eyes. "I know it's silly, I just so wanted her to be here for this."

Placing his arm around her, he hugged her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Shall we begin?" the vicar called. Rose composed herself and nodded before collecting Matthew from his pram.

Rose had made some friends during her time in Shere and they were all sitting in the pews. For Matthew's godparents, she and Ron had chosen Vera and Roger, the man her sister had recently become engaged to.

Roger was good for Vera, and while Rose knew no one could possibly replace the family she'd lost, she hoped he and her sister would go on to have children and, in turn, the family life Vera so longed for.

Seconds after the ceremony had begun and the vicar was welcoming the guests, there was a clatter causing all to turn round and face the church doors.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Emma whispered as she hurried in, quickly sliding in besides Vera who flashed her a red lipped grin.

Looking at a positively overjoyed Rose, Ron squeezed her hand and smiled. Turning, he caught Emma's gaze and with surprise, returned the smile and nod she gave him.

"Oh Emma, I'm so happy you came!" Rose exclaimed hugging her daughter tightly when the ceremony was over. "I didn't think you'd make it, you didn't reply to my letter," she continued once they broke apart, tears crowding her eyes.

"I was...busy with university," Emma covered her lack of reply due to indecision, not wanting to bring up the obvious elephant in the room upon seeing her mother so emotionally vulnerable.

"Of course," Rose nodded keanly. "You'll have to tell me all about it, later."

Emma nodded and smiled in reply, still shocked at how emotional her visit had made her mother. She felt guilt too, of all the awful things she'd thought upon finding out about her mother's affair, and of all the horrible names she'd called her in her head. She could see now though that Rose hadn't changed; she wasn't a harlot, but the same loving mother she'd always known, one who must've surely have fiercely fought any feelings she'd had for a man outside her marriage.

"You remember Captain Dreyfuss," Rose introduced awkwardly as Ron appeared at her side and placed his hand on her lower back.

"I do yes," Emma said, despite having only the vaguest outline of a memory of a tall, faired haired American Air Force Captain.

"It's nice to meet you, again," Ron said reaching for Emma's hand. After a momentary awkwardness, Emma accepted and shock his hand.

The small christening party made their way to the home Rose occupied with Ron, Kate, and now Matthew. They had sandwiches and cake as a celebration, Rose making the best out of what she could get given rationing was still in existence.

"How's Michael?" Vera inquired discreetly to Emma as they stood preparing tea in the kitchen.

"He's doing well," Emma said happily. "He's met someone actually, she seems to make him really happy."

"That's good," Vera said. "He deserves to be happy." Emma nodded and the pair were silent for a moment before Vera spoke. "I know this must have all been awful for you, but you must see how happy Rose is now."

"I do," Emma told her in defeat. "I've never seen her…" she furrowed her brow looking for the right word, "glow like this."

"I know her better than anyone, so believe me when I say she never meant to cause anybody harm," Vera continued.

"I know."

"Sometimes we meet the right people at the wrong time," she philosophised. "That's not to say she didn't love your father, but in a different way."

"I understand, but it was hard at first to come to terms with," Emma shrugged. "But she's so happy now, and dad is finding happiness again too, and I suppose that's all that matters."

"Gosh, when did you become so grown up and mature?" Vera laughed as they hugged.

Later, Vera and Emma stood in the small sitting room crowded by people. Rose stood in the corner holding Matthew and delighting as he was cooed over.

"Emma, why don't you come back and stay with me tonight?" Vera offered to her niece.

"I suppose I could, I haven't had chance to arrange a place to stay," Emma replied.

"You can stay here, it's no problem," Rose interjected.

"I don't know..." Emma said still feeling slightly uneasy about the whole situation.

"You can squeeze in with Kate," she told her daughter, to which Emma looked at her reluctantly. "Please, I really want you here," Rose finally admitted.

Glancing at Vera, Emma saw her aunt give her a nod of encouragement.

"OK," Emma conceded, deciding she could cope with one night cramped with her sister in this new kind of family household to make her mother happy.

In bed later that evening, with the house finally silent, Rose was given chance to reflect on the day.

"I'm so happy Emma is so accepting of you, I never thought…" Rose told Ron, shaking her head slightly.

"While I don't know if I'd say she's accepted me," he weighed in more cautiously, "I do think she's started to tolerate me at least, which is good," he smiled.

"Have I told you lately how glad I am I married you?" she beamed.

"Hmmm, I can always hear it some more," he replied flirtatiously leaning in to kiss Rose, only to be interrupted by the sure cry of their son.

"I'll be back in a minute," Rose sighed as she moved to stand up from the bed.

"It's alright, I'll get him," Ron insisted standing and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"No, it's alright..." she tried to insist.

"Really, I can get him. I can give him some of that powdered milk," he told her, scrunching up his nose at that thought of the less than appetising milk substitute his son inexplicably seemed to love.

"You're sure?" Rose queried again in mild disbelief; Michael had never offered to help with the children when they were small, considering their care her responsibility.

"I'm sure," Ron told her with a soft kiss to her forehead. "You've been rushed off your feet today, rest."

"Thank you," she smiled warmly.

"Hey little guy," he whispered picking his wailing son from his crib besides their bed. "I think you're hungry aren't you?"

Carrying him carefully down the stairs, Ron made his way into the kitchen. After somehow managing to maneuver filling kettle while holding his wriggling and impatient son, he rocked the boy while he waited for it to boil. After preparing the bottle, and giving it time to cool, he let his eager son suckle on the teet.

There was a rocking chair in the sitting room where Rose often nursed Matthew, and Ron sat carefully down in it as he cradled his feeding son. The bottle soon became empty, and he removed it from the boy's mouth and watched as he gurgled slightly before his eyes began to drift closed. After kissing Matthew's head, Ron swayed the chair gently back and forth to sooth him to sleep.

When Rose woke a few hours later, she saw neither her son or husband were in the room and went downstairs to investigate. After pulling on her dressing gown, she quietly descending the stairs so as not to wake the other sleeping occupants of the house, before she peered into the living room. There, she was confronted with her husband with her son cradled in his arms, both sound asleep in the rocking chair. As she watched them sleep, their breath almost in sync, she thought she'd never seen such a serenely perfect tableau.

Even though she knew she would have sworn 24 hours earlier to be as happy as she could possibly be, deep down she knew it was a lie because she hadn't had the acceptance of all her children, something she was thankfully on the road to wholly gaining.

It was only now that Rose could say, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was truly as happy as she could possibly be, and it felt wonderful.


End file.
